


Rogues

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Offscreen Torture, Romance, show-level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Ackles had everything a young pirate could want: fast ship, steady crew, and boys in every port. Then a handsome sailor, hitched to a notorious rival ship, stumbled into his life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HermineKurotowa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermineKurotowa/gifts).



> Written in fulfillment of a fanworks auction. Thank you for taking a chance on me! :D
> 
> And sincerest thanks to the lady **[crowroad](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crowroad/pseuds/crowroad)** , for a savage and magnificent beta. All messiness is all mine.

_In the year of Our Lord 1708_

“Gentlemen.” The captain paced the quarterdeck of his captured prize, ragged merchant mariners in ranks before him. “I am Captain Morgan. Your master has surrendered this vessel without terms, and I am a man o’ mercy. So long as none o’ ye interferes with me or me crew, no harm will come t’ ye.”

He spoke the words, near a sacred litany, though on this bonny day, like as not, he needn’t have bothered. His lookout had spotted the _Rosa del Mar_ no more than a hundred miles off Hispaniola. And she’d struck her colors almost as quick as his lads had hoisted theirs. Her master assured him his crew would offer no resistance. Judging by the old boy’s sunken cheeks and trembling hands, Jeffrey saw no cause to doubt him.

“Any lad wishin’ t’ join me crew may speak with me quartermaster.” He gave a nod to his adopted son, standing larboard abaft the main mast. “Mr. Ackles will see that you’re fed and doctored as soon as ye sign the Articles.”

A breeze rustled the papers Jensen held. At his side stood a barrel, brought up for the signing. Clouds like batts of wool drifted across the blue above. Ships creaked in the blue below.

Jeffrey made for the master’s cabin.

“Captain Morgan, sir?”

He turned back.

A sailor – nay, an officer, from his garb – stepped forward. “Blacker, sir,” said he. “First Mate.” Hollow-eyed as his master, Blacker yet projected authority. “The men took a vote as your vessel approached. We all wish to join.”

Jeffrey labored to keep his surprise off his features. “All o’ ye? Every one?”

“Aye, sir.”

Now here was a rare opportunity. His sloop, _Cuchulainn’s Revenge_ , wouldn’t come close to housing a brigantine’s crew. He’d have to take possession of _Rosa del Mar._ A bonny day, indeed. He sent a prayer of thanks to the Virgin for her many blessings.

Jeffrey gave orders to halt the inspection of _Rosa del Mar_ , and assemble his Council in her master’s cabin. There he made his wishes known.

“This crew ought intermingle with ours,” said he. “There bein’ no objection I mean t’ take command o’ _Rosa del Mar_ – though we’ll have t’ rename her proper.”

Council members laughed their agreement.

“As t’ _Cuchulainn’s Revenge_ ,” he sought out a pair of green eyes, “There bein’ no objection, I mean t’ give command t’ her quartermaster.”

Jensen said nary a word, as the Council set to arguing.

“He’s just a boy!”

“We voted him quartermaster!”

“What of the new lads?”

“Playin’ at favorites!”

Jeffrey allowed the Council to bicker a time, then thumped his fist upon the table. “That’s enough, now.”

The men settled.

“’Tis unconventional, I know.” He conjured his most charming smile. “So we make it a trial. Once these new lads learn our ways, _Cuchulainn’s Revenge_ can hold a vote. Draw up new Articles.”

At least this round of arguing was quieter.

“Not how we do things.”

“Do you trust this new lot?”

“Bloody child captain.”

Jeffrey interrupted. “The lad’s been sailin’ alongside me the last fifteen years. Ye voted him quartermaster. Name one among ye who’s sailed longer, worked harder. Name one among ye as good in a fight.”

“The lad’s fearsome in battle.”

“Dead-eye with a pistol.”

“Knows the ship like a priest knows the Bible.”

“And any man who prefers to remain with me, may do so.” He looked to Jensen, who held his peace. “What say ye, Mr. Ackles?”

“It would be my honor, sir,” said the lad, quiet but firm.

“Are we in agreement, then?” Jeffrey asked the Council.

A chorus of “Ayes,” some grudging, rounded the table.

“Aye, then.” He addressed his bosun. “Kelly. Go and speak t’ that Blacker. The two o’ ye make a start o’ dividin’ the crews. The rest o’ ye, see t’ your duties. We still have t’ inspect this ship.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Aye, captain.”

“Man’s gone mad.”

Men stood to attend to their duties. Jeffrey laid a hand on Jensen’s arm. “Tarry here.”

“Aye, sir.” Jensen sat.

When the room had cleared, Jeffrey asked, “Do ye recall the day I found ye?” In all their years they’d never spoke of this. Emotion swelled in his breast. _I must be growin’ old,_ he thought, _soft-minded._

Jensen’s jaw twitched. “I recall.”

“Then ye know I bought your indenture.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Did ye ever wonder why?”

The lad scrubbed a hand across his beard. He’d never said, but Jeffrey suspected he let it grow to mask his young age and fair features. “Of course I’ve wondered,” said he. “I know your mind on slaving.”

Aye, he would. Jeffrey himself had escaped a Barbados plantation, born of a mother indentured there after Cromwell’s scourging of Ireland. He made no secret of hating the slave trade. Made no bones about freeing, rather than selling, the slaves he captured.

“Ye were no more’n five or six. A babe, not even in breeches.” Jeffrey recalled the summer heat, the stench of bodies, the plantation men who crowded round the dock. “I saw them takin’ ye up t’ the block and it…” He bent his neck, turned knowing eyes up toward the lad. “Suffice t’ say it fired me temper.”

Jensen rounded his eyes and grinned. “A wonder then no man had a taste of your fists. Or your cutlass.”

“’Twas a near-run thing,” Jeffrey allowed. “But I shoved me way into the crowd and took t’ bellowin’. ‘What manner o’ men are ye, t’ sell a child so young? What sort o’ work mean ye t’ extract from him?’ Well. The plantation men averted their eyes and the auction men went t’ stammerin’.”

“I remember that,” said Jensen, “though it was years before I understood.”

“Aye,” Jeffrey answered grimly. “And I said, ‘I bid one pound sterlin’. Who’ll bid against me?’” He felt a grin break over his face. “Not a one had the courage.”

Jensen returned his grin. “Wise men.” They tarried in silence a while, before Jensen said, “I know all this. You were going to tell me why?”

Jeffrey’s mouth pressed tight, as though his very face desired him to keep his peace. “I had a wife.”

Jensen’s eyes grew round, surprised, for this Jeffrey had kept secret.

“My Sam was the fairest, cleverest lass ye ever saw.” He cleared his throat. “Fever took her from me, not a year before I found ye on those docks.” Jeffrey reached inside a secret pocket sewn into his waistcoat. Drew out a miniature portrait he’d let no man see in fifteen years. He passed it to Jensen.

“Ye gods. She’s beautiful.”

“Aye, lad, and you’re her very image.” Jeffrey drew a deep breath. “That day at the docks, I only meant t’ cause those auction men some trouble.” His voice grew low and rough. “But when I took t’ bellowin’ ye looked up at me, and, saints preserve me, I was seein’ her eyes again.”

Jensen lingered over the miniature. “Why tell me this?”

“’Cause you’re a man now, captain o’ your own fine ship. And men deserve t’ know where they come from.” Jeffrey gripped Jensen’s shoulder. “Far as I’m concerned, you’re as much me son as if Sam had bore ye. Understand?”

“Aye, sir.” Jensen handed Jeffrey the portrait. Met his eyes. “Thank you, Father.”

Jeffrey grinned. Rare indeed the boy named him _father_. Always _sir_ or _captain_ , ever conscious of decorum. “You’re welcome, son.” He tucked the miniature back in its pocket and stood. “Now go. You’ve a crew t’ command. And a sorry lot o’ merchant men t’ turn into proper sailors.”

Jensen smiled. Sam’s smile. “Aye, sir.”

Jeffrey felt his eyes grow wet.


	2. Thread of Scarlet

_Three years later_

Jensen strode along the waterfront, only half listening as his bosun prattled. Salt fish and fresh water. Powder, packing, shot, and rum. Costs and shares and duty rosters. He glanced at the lad and nodded at appropriate intervals.

One eye on the market stalls, he bypassed beer and rum, canvas and candles. Terns cried above and merchants below. Bells clanged, pigs squealed; hooves and wheels clattered over the planks of the harbor road.

He realized he’d lost all track of his bosun’s concerns.

“Collins,” Jensen sighed, clapping the man on the shoulder, “get whatever we need. If the funds run short, you know where to find me.”

“Aye, sir,” Collins hastened his steps. Rushed ahead.

“Oy, Collins!” he called. “Take Little Timmy along. He’ll brace your bargaining position.”

“Aye, sir,” Collins repeated, vanishing into the throng overrunning the port.

Jensen grinned. He ran a solid crew. Hardworking – and honest lads, as pirates went. They kept his _Sable Gale_ seaworthy, kept her stuffed with goods and gold. He weeded out the bloodthirsty and vicious – ahead of time, when possible – and never kept them beyond one hitch.

He spied an old woman, peddling herbs from a ring of baskets. At last! “Mint?”

She nodded.

He paid her fairly for a bundle. Pinched a few leaves to pop into his mouth, their flavor sharp enough to make him blink.

He was filling a pouch with the balance when a familiar holler reached his ears.

“Little Redbeard!” Ruddy Jim. Harbormaster of Port St. Luc, fast friend and corruptible bastard. The old man tipped his cap as Jensen approached. “Not shippin’ anythin’ illegal I trust?”

“Only the usual.” Jensen grinned. “Suppose you’ll want to confiscate it personally?”

“Aye, boy. Y’know me well.” The old man laughed, broad and sunny. “How long you in for?”

Jensen shrugged. “Few days. Long enough to get my fill of beer and boys.”

“Angels o’ mercy,” Jim cast his eyes skyward, “you’ll kill an old sailor with talk like that.”

“Then, how about, long enough to make repairs and resupply?”

“Better,” Jim allowed. “You’ll be off at Samantha’s, I take it?”

“Aye. Come around when you’re ready to make your, inspection.” Jensen winked.

“I will at tha – ” his eyes caught something over Jensen’s shoulder. “Oy there! And just where d’you think you’re goin’?”

Ruddy Jim had spied a sailor, young and sun-brown, pushing a wheeled cart loaded with rum barrels. Poor fellow jumped a near foot in the air. “S-sir?”

Greenhorn. Dressed all in slops: striped linen waistcoat, buttons undone, with matching breeches and plain gray socks. He wore salt-stained shoes without buckles, and tufts of unruly hair fell about his shoulders, escaped from his red-faced cap. He wore no arms, as Jensen could see, unusual for a lad in port. Unusual, and unwise.

Jim spared a puckish grin for Jensen and marched down the dock toward the boy. Jensen shook his head and chuckled, remembering all too well _being_ that boy, quaking in his boots under Ruddy Jim’s riot act. He followed the harbormaster.

Bellowing nonsense about tariffs and declarations, old Jim had the sailor shrinking back toward the shore.

“M-my captain said – ”

“No excuses, boy. I’ll have you – ”

Jensen broke in. “Now, Jim. For shame!” He gripped the petrified sailor around the arm, and what an arm it was, thick-corded and strong. “The poor lad’s like to piss himself.” He looked up, and up. Ye gods he was tall.

“Where’s this captain o’ yours?” Jim demanded.

The sailor pointed, pale-faced, and Jim stalked off. Jensen watched, and when he’d moved away ten paces or so, Ruddy Jim turned back and tipped his cap.

Angels of mercy or no, the bastard knew what Jensen liked. He raised a hand in salute.

“What’s your name, lad?” Jensen asked, releasing the sailor’s arm.

“P-Padalecki. Jared.” He looked after the harbormaster. “Have I, have I brought trouble down on my captain?”

Jensen started to laugh, until he saw the terror painting Jared’s features. “No, lad. Old Jim just likes to take the piss out of greenhorns.”

The boy heaved a sigh of relief that might have filled a mainsail. Then, “Is it so apparent?”

Eyes a color Jensen couldn’t name met his. The boy’s waistcoat flapped as a breeze kicked up, hair fluttering back from a striking face. A powerful brow drew down toward a turned-up nose, above a wide bow mouth and cleft chin. Features taut with misery gave Jensen a surprising urge to carry this boy off. Wrap him up in his arms and keep him safe.

Instead, Jensen settled for a sympathetic smile. “Afraid so.”

Jared deflated further.

“Your first visit to Port St. Luc, I take it?”

“Aye, sir.” Jared stared at his shoes, hunched his shoulders.

“Well then. Let me show you around.” He sketched a shallow bow. “Captain Jensen Ackles, known in these parts as Little Redbeard.” He pointed at the cart of rum. “What destination for your cargo?”

The boy eyed him, suspicious. “A tavern, sir. The Iron Lady?”

Jensen clapped his hands. “Ah, Samantha’s place! Was headed there myself!”

Jared gripped the handles of his cart with enormous hands. Jensen swallowed.

“Lead the way, sir.”

“Jensen,” he insisted, slapping Jared on the back. “You’re no lad of my crew, so you don’t call me ‘sir.’”

“Aye, sir – ”

Jensen raised an eyebrow.

“ – I mean Jensen.” At last, at last the sailor smiled, head bowed and barely holding Jensen’s eyes. And he felt his head go light when deep-cut dimples appeared in Jared’s cheeks. He mentally increased the weight of Ruddy Jim’s purse.

 

**

Nearby, hidden behind a stack of crates, Sheppard narrowed his eyes. _What’s that fool boy doing fraternizing?_ He watched, as his charge walked away through the crowd, the bearded man by his side. Sheppard debated: go back and report to Captain Lehne? Or carry on following and see what else young Jared got up to?

Sheppard decided to follow. Losing himself in the waterfront’s bustle, he kept an eye on his captain’s pet as they all made their way into town.

 

**

Jared kept his eyes on his cart as best he could, tight-necked and knuckles clenching white.

His companion, tip-to-toe a dashing captain, wore a cocked hat above a simple tail at the nape of his neck. A smart coat of dark brown swung about his knees as he sauntered along. A green waistcoat peeked from underneath, and camel breeches disappeared down the shanks of tall boots. Around his throat hung a plain cravat beneath a small medallion of St. Nicholas.

Port St. Luc fairly buzzed. Sailors and locals rushed hither and yon across cobblestones. Women, most of questionable hygiene, called to them from balconies and open windows. Urchins scuttled underfoot, no doubt seeking purses to cut. _Well,_ thought Jared bitterly, _at least any rascal pinching my pockets today will come up disappointed_.

If his father could see him now, the old man would have apoplexy.

Jensen’s voice charmed his ears, pointing here, explaining there. He seemed familiar in this madhouse, shouting greetings and bawdy jests that raised a color in Jared’s cheeks. Remarkable, this captain making him blush. And after all he’d endured these past few months. His insides ached.

He’d come a long way from his father’s tobacco fields, his mother’s cooking and sisters’ tittering. From Adrianne, the girl his father insisted he marry, pretty and tall and quick-witted. He’d fled Virginia, entangled himself with Captain Lehne, rather than doom her to misery. She was full of life and hope and passion. And he –

Jensen stopped and Jared startled. “This is the place.” He smiled up. “You’ll want to take those in through the back.”

Jensen led him down a narrow alley, past a rough-looking fellow smoking a pipe while a girl’s head bobbed between his legs. Jared averted his eyes and Jensen laughed.

“Right here, Greenhorn.” Jensen banged on a heavy door and shouted, “Delivery!”

“ _Petit Rouge_?” came a feminine voice in reply.

“Ah no! Well, yes, but I’m here with a sailor from – ” He looked at Jared. “What’s your ship?”

“ _Wolf’s Watch!_ ” called Jared.

Jensen’s face paled slightly, but before Jared could speak he heard a heavy bar scraping aside. The door swung open.

“ _Wolf’s Watch?_ ” A woman stepped into the doorway. Long brown hair framed a square-jawed face. “Why on Earth are you consorting with…?” She looked at Jared. No. She looked him _over._ “Ah. I see why.”

“I have your rum, ma’am,” Jared said, struggling not to wilt under her scrutiny.

“Yes, I can see this.” She motioned them in. “Come on, then. Bring the barrels. Don’t waste time, boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jared mumbled.

To his surprise, Jensen hoisted a barrel and strode inside. Jared hurried to follow. Together they took no time emptying Jared’s cart. As they stowed the last barrel, a pretty blonde stepped through swinging doors.

“Lose a bet?” she asked tartly.

Jensen doffed his hat and mopped his brow. Shot the girl a look. “No Alona. Just lending a hand to my new friend here.” Jared fumbled with his own hat as Jensen clapped him on the shoulder.

“New friend,” Alona sniffed. Then shrugged. “ _Maman’s_ got your usual room ready. Suppose you won't need me to send for a – ”

“A pint of this rum and some sweet shag tobacco,” Jensen interrupted. “Are you hungry, Jared?”

Jared was starved, but he’d already abused this man’s kindness. And he needed to get back to –

His traitorous stomach growled, and Jensen caught his eyes, chuckling. Jared lacked to have burned on the spot.

“Some of your mother’s fish stew, and bread.” Hand tight on Jared’s shoulder, Jensen led him past Alona, through the doors, and toward a staircase. He never spared a glance at the tavern’s busy common room.

“Oh, and,” Jensen called over his shoulder, “have Chad put that cart out back on a chain. Belongs to Lehne. I’m sure you won’t want to lose it.”

“Aye, Captain,” Alona huffed.

Jensen guided him up the stairs, to a room of such luxury Jared’s eyes goggled. A great featherbed lay in a canopied frame, draped with thick brocades and sheer silks. A heavy desk sat beneath a window, and two upholstered chairs shared their corner with a table. Candles sat in mirrored sconces around the walls. Only the rough-hewn boards of the floor gave away the tavern’s rustic exterior.

Jensen caught him gaping. Grinned, skin crinkling around his eyes. “The proprietor’s fond of me.” He removed his coat and hung it on a peg alongside his hat.

“I should say so,” Jared said, hanging his own cap and running a hand through his hair.

The captain threw open the blinds. Afternoon sun flooded the room, silhouetted Jensen’s arms inside his shirtsleeves. He extended a hand. “Sit, please. Samantha will send our supper.”

Jared chose the chair angled away from the window. Jensen sat opposite. Light pouring in emphasized details Jared hadn’t seen before. Maybe hadn’t let himself.

Gold flecks dotted Jensen’s eyes, green like a cat’s and ringed with lashes fit for any Virginia society girl. Cinnamon freckles sprayed across his nose and cheeks. His beard, close-cropped, and in this light Jared could see the hints of red that must have earned him his nickname. And his lips… Jared drew a heavy breath.

 

**

Jensen watched as the boy took in his surroundings. Didn’t fail to notice the lingering stare Jared laid on his mouth. He stifled his grin. They’d come to that, saints willing, but for now, “May I ask you a blunt question?”

Jared nodded. Bit his lip.

“What are you doing with Lehne’s crew?”

“I’m a sailor.” He hitched his shoulders.

Jensen let out a clipped sigh. “Yes, I worked that out. What I mean is…” His eyes flicked toward the ceiling, fingers drumming on his chair. “How does a lad like you fall in with that lot?”

Jared shrugged again. “Same as anyone, I suppose. I signed on for a hitch.”

Jensen squinted. Wondered what lurked behind the simple explanation. But the boy’s jaw took a stubborn set that said he was loath to elaborate.

 _Boy_. He felt amiss, thinking of Jared as such. In age he wasn’t much younger than Jensen. Five years, perhaps, on the long end. A boy seaman, for certain, given his inexperience. Jensen wondered what manner of life he’d led, before putting out to sea.

“All right, your turn,” Jensen said. “Ask me something.”

Jared’s eyes went wide and his shoulders drew back. And then, as if he were reading Jensen’s mind, “Aren’t you young for a captain?”

Jensen hooted. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He raised an eyebrow. “And believe it or not, I owe it all to my stunning good looks.”

Jared blushed deliciously. Made a study of the tablecloth. Jensen opened his mouth to say more, but a knock interrupted. He sprang up, drew a purse from his boot. When he opened the door Alona entered, carrying a tray.

“ _Maman_ spoils you,” she accused, setting the tray in front of Jared, whose poor stomach growled again.

“She spoils you too, Al. And so do I.” He slid the purse into her hand and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Settle my bill and the rest is for you.”

She looked at him out of the sides of her eyes, but her lips quirked into a barely-suppressed smile. She turned to Jared. “Enjoy your dinner, _cher_. This one is known for his… hospitality.” With that she spun and vanished in a storm of skirts.

Jensen kicked the door closed, headed back to the table. Fish stew, hard and soft bread, and beignets, which he hadn’t even thought to order. Samantha did spoil him.

“Please, dig in,” Jensen said as he chose a hard roll and tore it into a trencher. He glanced up at Jared. Well, he only meant to glance, but he found the sailor staring at him, pretty eyes wide and glistening, mouth pressed tight.

“Thank you,” Jared whispered, and Jensen felt a surge of furious protectiveness, the likes of which he’d only sensed before when it came to his ship.

Shoving down the urge to march down to the dock and slit Lehne’s throat in broad daylight, Jensen offered Jared the gentlest smile he could muster. “You’re welcome, Greenhorn. Now eat.”

Jensen stole furtive looks at Jared as they ate in silence. From the minute they’d met, Jared jumped at his own shadow. He showed no outward marks of abuse, though his clothes might have hidden all manner of wounds. Jensen found himself watching Jared’s movements for signs of sore ribs, stiff joints, a striped back…

The way he’d reacted to supper gnawed at Jensen too. Of course, bone soup and biscuits would leave any man unsatisfied. But the boy reached the edge of tears over a tavern meal. Jared was _starved_.

Lehne had to be misusing him, one way or other. Jensen suppressed a shudder. _Wolf’s Watch_ had a grim reputation, even among pirates. A British privateer, Lehne seemed to reach new depths of cruelty with every hitch. Aboard ship he was king, and known across the Caribbean for his vicious creativity.

Once, Jensen heard of a sailor who’d crossed Lehne at sea. The crew had tied him to a boom and dangled him into the water. Fed him slow to the sharks. He understood sailors’ penchant for tales, so he’d always half dismissed the stories _._ Then a year ago he’d signed a lad who had served under Lehne. Naked Nick, he soon was dubbed, because he never was – rather in the same way Little Timmy was a mountain.

Nick wore his shirt in the brightest sun on the hottest day, and when a fever seized him Jensen learned why. His back had been more scar than skin. Brands dotted his chest and faded rope burns marked his arms. Jensen’s surgeon had wondered how Nick had survived it.

When they buried Naked Nick at sea, Jensen prayed his soul to Heaven, confident the lad had served his time in Hell, aboard _Wolf’s Watch_.

Jensen found himself put off his supper, so he passed it to Jared. Wary eyes met his but Jared ate, his portion and half of Jensen’s, all the sweet beignets.

To pass the time, he told tales. Nonsense, almost to a word. The ghosts of Graveyard Island, treacherous mermaids and great sea serpents. Stories told to him growing up aboard ships. Jared laughed and shivered by turns, his rapt attention spurring Jensen onward.

“What age were you when you put to sea?” Jared asked.

Jensen felt a muscle clench in his jaw. Considered lying. He studied Jared’s face. Those eyes bored into him, lips slightly parted and corners turned up, shoulders forward. Jensen relented.

“Five or six.”

Jared blinked. “You, don’t know your age?”

“Old enough, is all that counts.” Jensen plastered on a rakish grin. “What age are you, Greenhorn?”

Before Jared could answer they heard a commotion from the common room. A throaty voice shouted, barked demands and threats with a highbrow British inflection.

Jared’s face went white. “Sheppard. I was supposed to come straight back.”

“Can you fight?” Jensen was already on his feet.

“Aye, sir.”

“Then check the armoire, bottom drawer. There’ll be a false panel – ”

A scream. _Alona_. And _Old Scratch, get your pitchfork ready. I’ll be sending your right hand home_.

Jensen loaded both his pistols, eased his cutlass in its scabbard. Jared uncovered a wicked cudgel and two more pistols from the armoire. _God bless you, Samantha Ferris, you’re an angel_.

Jared’s color had returned, and Jensen saw in his face that stubborn set again, and a new expression.

 

**

Jared followed as Jensen eased down the stairs, taking care to avoid creaky boards. Jensen’s left hand signaled halt as his right gripped a pistol. He crouched, took aim, and Jared’s ears rang with the report.

Shouts and curses in the tavern, and above all he could hear Sheppard bellowing. “Who shot me? Which one of you bloody buggers bloody shot me?”

“I did,” Jensen said as he stood and descended the stairs. Jared trailed him a piece and hunkered down to watch. Jensen closed on the _Wolf’s Watch_ quartermaster. “Holding a gun on an innocent girl? Have you no shame, sailor?”

Sheppard’s face went sunset red. He spluttered and clutched at his bleeding shoulder. “You. I hear you’re called Little Redbeard. Well, you’ve just written your death warrant. Lehne will – ”

“Not now,” Jensen interrupted, “and not here.” He grabbed the smaller fellow by his wounded arm and earned a howl of pained protest. Shoved him toward the swinging doors and flung him through. Sheppard lit in the dirt with a bevy of curses.

Jared followed, pistol drawn and waiting, out of sight. Two patrons, both younger-looking than Jared, pinned a third man to the bar top. Sheppard’s backup man, no doubt, likely Blackeyed Corin.

“I do hope your new fuck toy is worth it,” Sheppard spat. “Yes, I know all about you and your… proclivities. Lehne will have your balls for this, and have your poor little rich boy back.” Grunting and shuffling, no doubt Sheppard regaining his feet. “Oh, and before we sail, I’ll come here and personally burn this tavern to a heap of ash.”

Jared watched as Jensen’s shoulders drew to a menacing line. “You can tell Lehne if he sails tonight, I won’t chase him down and gut him like he deserves. Or, we can settle this tomorrow. Graveyard Island, south beach. I sail at sunrise.”

Jensen spun on his heel and swaggered inside, never giving Sheppard a backward glance.

The older woman, Samantha, marched from behind the bar and set herself in Jensen’s path. “Have you lost your mind? Frederic Lehne will never give you an honest fight. He’ll ambush you, take you prisoner, and torture you to death.”

Ignoring her, Jensen called to the boys at the bar. “Os, Jake, let him go.”

“Aye, sir,” both men grunted. Neither looked pleased. Blackeyed Corin hustled away from his captors and out to the street.

Jensen placed comforting hands on Samantha’s shoulders. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Absolutely,” Samantha answered sincerely.

Jensen trembled, chuckling. “Lehne’s overconfident. Thinks he’s untouchable. I mean to use that to my advantage.”

Samantha stroked the side of Jensen’s face. Then, she slapped it. Jared winced in sympathy. “This is for the worrying I must do.”

Jensen rubbed his cheek. He kissed Samantha’s forehead and ducked around her. Stood on a chair. “Lads, Frederic Lehne is a monster, a menace, and a stain against us all. I won’t order anyone to take this hitch. The risk is your life and the pay is naught.”

Men murmured.

“But any man wants a share, you’re in. Report to Quartermaster Olsson aboard _Sable Gale_ by sunset.” Jensen stepped down. Turned to Jared. “You should clear out, find a place to lie low.”

Jared balked. If Jensen meant to fight on his behalf, he meant to go along. “I’m no lad of your crew, sir, with all due respect. I don’t follow your orders.”

One of Jensen’s eyebrows shot up, lips curled into a smirk. “No, Greenhorn. I suppose you don’t.”

And Jared couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to kiss that look off the captain’s face. A devil got a hold of him, and with all his courage he whispered into Jensen’s ear, “But I’ll follow that arse of yours anywhere.” His face grew hot.

Jensen’s eyes blazed and he licked his lips. “Upstairs.” His voice came dark and smooth as good whisky. “We need to plan.”


	3. Lily Among Thorns

They _did_ need to plan, and Jared’s knowledge of _Wolf’s Watch_ would certainly help. Feeling Jared’s gaze on him as he climbed the stairs did not.

Jensen led Jared into the room and closed the door. Neither moved. Jared watched him, parted lips and shallow breaths. His hands hung by his sides, reflexively clenching and relaxing.

Jared moved toward Jensen with intent and he –

Stepped back. Poured all his strength of will into opening distance between them. Jared’s presence pulled at him, relentless as undertow, but… That gibe about Jensen’s _proclivities…_ Meaningless, on any other day. All of Port St. Luc knew his weakness for boys. Blaze. Half the Caribbean knew.

But what if Jared thought this was his price for rescue? God alone knew what Lehne was capable of, what Jared might have suffered at his hands. Lying with another man might well seem preferable, even if…

“Jensen?” The boy’s voice wavered. “Please forgive me.” Jared slumped like he could disappear. Brows pulled toward the center, forehead folded in a tiny arch. He raised his eyes, wide with want, and all Jensen’s strength of will collapsed.

He pressed into Jared’s chest, took his hands, and kissed him.

Jared startled. Froze. Jensen took a half step back but didn’t loose his grip. He waited. Watched as Jared searched his face.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” said Jared at last.

“Then please let me explain. I mean to kill Frederic Lehne because he’s a savage that needs killing.”

Jared shook his head, drew down his brow.

“As for you, I want only what you want. I won’t take advantage.”

Jared blinked. A slow smile chased confusion off his face. He licked his lips and Jensen barely suppressed his shiver.

“And if I say I want you to kiss me again?” Jared leaned forward. Jensen tilted up his chin, and Jared reduced him to groans, long fingers curled behind his neck. Jensen wound his arms around, tugged at Jared’s lips and when he sighed Jensen added his tongue. Swiped at the tender skin inside and Jared gasped. Slid his own tongue into Jensen’s mouth, explored behind his teeth.

Jensen crashed into a bedpost with a grunt and Jared kissed him ferociously, stoking heat in Jensen’s groin and weakening his knees.

Jared plucked at Jensen’s buttons, sucked a trail down his neck. _God, yes._ He shoved his hands under Jared’s waistcoat and the boy released him long enough to let it fall. Jensen dragged Jared’s shirttail free of his breeches, slid his hands up underneath. Dug his fingers into the warm skin, pulled Jared closer, slid hard against him. Jared threw back his head on a cry.

Jensen spun and lowered them to the bed. Jared stretched and arched as Jensen peppered kisses across his face, his throat, an exposed collarbone. Then he stood. Discarded his waistcoat and shirt and Jared, _clever boy,_ stripped off his own.

Jensen set himself astride his lover’s legs. Slid their chests together as Jared’s arms twined around him. Jared breathed out heavy as all that naked skin collided. Rocking together they kissed, learned the shapes of one another’s teeth.

Jensen touched every square inch he could reach. Raked blunt nails up Jared’s sides and sucked the gasp from his mouth. Jared bucked and rolled beneath him, finally seizing his hips and grinding near painfully.

“Jensen,” breathed the boy, eyes rolling back. A rumble commenced in Jared’s chest and tore from his mouth as a blissful shout.

Wet heat flooded between them. His lover’s face, so eager and guileless but white-hot in his pleasure… Jensen had to lay his head down, bury himself in Jared’s chest. Moses, cowed before the burning bush.

As Jared recovered his wits Jensen rose to his knees.

“Wait.” Jared reached for him, panting. “You… I…” Long fingers hesitated above the buttons of Jensen’s breeches. “I want to see.” Jared swallowed, rippling muscles all along his throat. “I want to touch.”

_Ohhh God._

Jensen nodded, mouth too dry for speech. Jared opened his buttons, knuckles grazing along his length. His stomach quaked, and Jensen closed his eyes and thrust against his lover’s hands. His prick sprang free and Jared sighed a quiet, “Oh.” Tentative touches set him shivering.

Jensen planted elbows in the mattress next to Jared’s shoulders. Trailed his thumbs across high cheekbones, stroked the ridge of his lover’s brow. His eyes met Jared’s, round and wide, jaw slack and pink lips glistening. Jensen bent to kiss the mole alongside Jared’s nose.

Jared’s fingers grew more confident, his touch insistent. Jensen hissed when Jared dragged a palm across his leaking crown, and groaned when that slick palm gripped tight. He pumped his hips and Jared’s hands were everywhere. Toying with him. Learning him. A gentle squeeze, a tug at his balls and Jensen howled. Spilled across the writhing body under him, again and again. Jared squeezed. Murmured. Jensen heard “beautiful” and “everything” and “never dared” and, finally spent, he collapsed to Jared’s side. Spellbound.

 

**

Jared couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover. His lover! Flushed and glistening, Jensen’s body curled against his. Arm and leg slung over, breathing damp and heavy on his chest. They should rouse themselves, he knew. Lengthening shadows and reddening light told him they had little time.

He kissed Jensen’s forehead. Petted his back. Jensen opened his eyes, grumbled, “You’ll be the death of me, Greenhorn.”

 _And sooner than later if we don’t stop Lehne._ It didn’t bear saying.

Jensen sighed and rolled to his back, muscles rippling as he stretched. His fingers found his medallion where it lay on the pillow between them. He dangled it above his chest.

“Do you pray, Jared?”

He almost laughed. “Not recently. Never seems to do me any good.”

“Oh no?” Jensen’s smile set Jared’s face aflame. “Then, it was blind circumstance that brought you here?”

“It was my foolishness that brought me here,” Jared said before he thought.

Jensen wet his lips. “Mm. Then I shall thank Saint Simeon Salos in my prayers tonight.” His face grew serious. “The truth, now. How did you come to join a pirate crew? Forgive my saying, but you hardly seem the type.”

Jared stared up at the pale silk canopy. Failed to invent a diverting jest. “I…” He sighed. “I was naïve.”

“Go on,” Jensen prodded, rolling into Jared’s side. The bronze of his medallion skimmed cool over Jared’s skin.

“I thought I was joining the Navy.” He winced, still mortified at his folly. “ _Wolf’s Watch_ sailed into Richmond flying the Red Ensign, and I – ”

“I thought you had the speech of a Colonial,” Jensen broke in. Pressed his lips to Jared’s ear. “A Virginia boy too,” he whispered. “Sweet like your tobacco.” Jared shivered. “Tell me the rest.”

He hesitated. Closed his eyes. “I was to marry at Christmas.” He grimaced. “A wonderful girl, heir to a fine plantation. My father was ecstatic but I…” Jared swallowed.

“Mm-hm?” Jensen asked.

Deep breath. “I couldn’t – please her. As – as a husband.” He shook his head. “Our families kept on about dozens of children and I had no idea how I’d give her any.”

Jensen let that lie for a while. Then, “Because you didn’t fancy her.”

Jared set his jaw. “Nor any girl,” he confessed. “I thought, ‘Join the Navy. Save some money. Start fresh somewhere else.’” He sighed. “I never guessed _Wolf’s Watch_ was a pirate ship.”

Jensen’s hand traced circles over Jared’s chest. “Nor Lehne a demon.”

“No.” He drew a heavy breath. “So as I said. I was a fool.”

“As I see it,” Jensen pushed up on his elbow, “you were selfless. A gentleman.”

Jared’s eyes went wide.

“Sacrificing everything for one girl’s happiness? Braving the trials of the sea to spare her?” Jensen’s eyes crinkled, grin full of mischief.

Jared’s mouth curved up, a rueful smile. “Crying shame I never met a man like you back home. Might have saved myself a heap of trouble.”

Jensen’s grin grew wicked. “In fairness,” he raised an eyebrow, “you’ll never meet a man like me anywhere.”

Jared chuckled.

“Nor have I ever been accused of keeping sweet boys out of trouble.”

His laughter built. A dam broke in his mind and he could only ride the current. His mouth fell open and body shook. Years of shame, months of terror tore out of him in hysterics. His sides, his face began to ache but he could not stop.

Jensen smiled down at him, brushed his hair back off his face and wiped the tears that fell from his eyes. Kissed his forehead when he subsided.

“Come along,” the captain coaxed. “Work to do.” He rolled out of bed and arranged his breeches. Soaked a cloth at the washstand. “Move it, Greenhorn. You lure me to that bed again and we’ll never leave this room.”

Jared obeyed. Jensen laid a hand on his shoulder, drew the cloth across his abdomen. His muscles twitched and his prick – clearly lacking any sense of self-preservation – tried to perk up for another round.

“Easy, now.” Jensen batted at the tenting fabric. Smoldered up at Jared. “Plenty of time for that later.”

Jared took the washcloth. “Maybe I’d better – ” His voice broke and heat swamped his cheeks.

“Aye.” Jensen laughed. “Maybe you had.” He went on chuckling, circling the bed and collecting their clothes.

Jared scrubbed himself as best he could. His drawers were ruined but they’d taken by far the worst of it. At least he could wear his breeches without shame. He pulled on his shirt, left the tail untucked. Joined Jensen at the desk, from whence he drew a slate and bit of chalk.

Jensen had mostly dressed, though his waistcoat hung unbuttoned. Loose hair fell about his face. “Can you sketch your ship’s interior?” he asked.

Jared frowned. “Not with any accuracy.”

“But you could map for me a route to the quartermaster’s quarters? And the captain’s?”

“Aye. I could do that.” He took the chalk and drew a crude map of _Wolf’s Watch_. Pointed out places Jensen asked after. The captain grilled him: passages, hiding spots, details of night watch.

“I don’t understand,” said Jared at last. “I thought you meant to fight Lehne in the open.”

“You know Lehne would never allow that.” Jensen drew his eyebrows down and clenched his jaw. “The man’s a snake in the grass. And that quartermaster,” he sniffed. “There’s a fellow carrying a coal of ambition. All he needs is the right someone to fan the fire.”

Jensen raised his eyes, and Jared saw his confidence, his cunning. _This is how a man so young is raised to captain_.

“In short,” Jensen went on. “I mean to incite a mutiny.”

He used his shirt to clear the slate, then buttoned his waistcoat. Jared arranged his own clothes and did his best to tame his hair.

“Here.” Jensen nicked a ribbon from the drapes around the bed. Stepped behind Jared and combed out tangles with his fingers. Then he tied a bow at Jared’s nape. “Now, a proper gentleman’s pigtail. Fit enough for the captain’s consort.” He laid a kiss on Jared’s neck, below his ear.

Jared shivered. He turned, bent on putting Jensen’s lips to better use. And so he did, until both were breathless.

“Keep those pistols,” Jensen said as he pulled on his coat. “We’ll return them once this ugly business is finished.”

Jared marveled at his self-assurance. Lehne was a deadly rival, but Jensen went about as though victory were certain. Jared decided to put his faith in the captain. Slid the pistols in his pockets, grabbed his cap, and they left out for the waterfront.

For the next hour Jared followed Jensen. The captain spoke with men in the tavern, men on the streets, men on the docks. The sun sank low. Jared hadn’t been ashore at night before, and Port St. Luc beat all he’d ever seen in daylight. Lamplighters toted poles and ladders, left gold trails in their wake. Carousing voices spilled from open blinds and fights from swinging doors.

Jensen tracked down Ruddy Jim for a whispered conversation. Jarflies serenaded the harbor. Jared hadn’t heard their song since his last night home. He let his eyes fall closed and when he opened them, Jensen was watching him. Head tilted, eyes crinkled, mouth curved in a small smile.

At last, by star and lantern they boarded _Sable Gale_. Her deck was thronged. Far more than her usual crew had come aboard. Jensen introduced him to two other captains, Williams and Morgan, both eager to put an end to Lehne’s brutality. He met Jensen’s quartermaster, Olsson. A right bear of a fellow with an easy laugh mismatched to his hard stare.

“Jared here knows the ship, the crew. If it comes to combat…”

“Understood,” said Olsson. “Godspeed, sir.”

“Godspeed to you.” Jensen touched his St. Nicholas medallion. Favored Jared with a longing look, and disembarked.

 

**

Sheppard’s eyes shot open when Jensen’s hand clapped over his mouth.

“Shh,” the captain breathed. “Not here to kill you. Just to talk.”

Sheppard nodded. The quartermaster surged forward as Jensen removed his hand. And found the point of Jensen’s knife, laid almost casually against his throat.

Sheppard lay back down. “I thought you said you _weren’t_ here to kill me.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t, if you try me.” Jensen twirled the blade, dug in the point just hard enough to earn a flinch. “Will you listen?”

Sheppard nodded again, cold rage warring with fear on his face.

“I hear you’re a man who makes deals. I’m here to offer one.” He drew back his knife, but kept it poised near Sheppard’s neck. “How would you like to take command of this fine vessel?”

Sheppard scoffed. “How would you like to wear your entrails down about your knees?”

Jensen cast his eyes skyward. “One way or other your Captain Lehne won’t live to see another sundown. Only question is, will you die with him? Or would you prefer to take his place?”

“I’m listening,” said Sheppard.

“Lehne is a beast and a tyrant. Every man aboard this tub was press-ganged. All you need do is stoke their courage.”

“You mean start a mutiny.”

“Put crudely, yes.” Jensen conjured his most seductive smile. “I know you covet his position. What’s stopped you from making a move? Some governor?”

“Aye,” Sheppard replied, lips curled in disdain. “Lehne is Pellegrino’s pet. I lead a mutiny, I’ll spend the rest of my days in stocks.”

“As I suspected,” Jensen nodded. Everything he’d hoped for was true. “However, suppose Captain Lehne fell afoul of a fellow pirate, one known for his flair with a pistol.” He raised an eyebrow. “Suppose he got shot in a duel.”

Finally, Sheppard smiled, cruel and twisted. “Then command would be mine.”

“Aye,” Jensen agreed. “So all I need from you is a distraction. You rile up the men and – ”

Metal pressed against Jensen’s head. Distinctive click of a hammer drawn back.

“Little Redbeard, I presume.” A nasal voice. “You can put your knife down now.”

Jensen grit his teeth and complied.

“Armstrong!” Sheppard cried. “Thank God you’ve come! This fool was trying to sell me on mutiny!”

“And you were what, merely playing along?”

“Of course,” said Sheppard. “He had a knife on me. I’d have disavowed me own mother to – ”

“Yes, yes.” The man Armstrong sounded bored. “You’re the very portrait of loyalty.”

Jensen closed his eyes and sent a prayer to St. Nicholas. Armstrong held the pistol hard against his head. Sheppard would betray him – _had_ betrayed him – quick as a wink. Perhaps Armstrong would shoot him where he stood. It’d be preferable to whatever Lehne might cook up for him.

“On your feet, Sheppard,” Armstrong barked. “I’ll be taking you both to the captain.”

Last thing Jensen knew, a splitting pain exploded the back of his skull.

The _next_ thing Jensen knew, his head still hurt. His arms and shoulders ached, he could barely breathe, and – 

“Are we awake?” A deep and faintly mocking voice cut through the fog.

Jensen tried to shake out his limbs, to ensure all his parts were in working order – but he was bound, arms stretched above his head and boots just scraping the deck. His chest was bare.

“You’ve been threatening me, Redbeard. Not a winning strategy if living is your game.”

So this was Lehne. He obviously took care to look imposing, dressed as he was in ostentatious finery. His coat was immaculate, dark green velvet, trimmed in braids of gold. His socks were silk and his shoes bore the red heel and tongue favored in the Old World. The man even wore a wig – a testament to extravagance. The price alone of the thing would have fed Jensen’s crew for a month. And the upkeep…

“I never threaten,” said Jensen. “I did tell your man you deserve to be gutted. But that’s rather like observing the sky is blue and the sea is wet.”

“Rolston,” Lehne called.

Another man stepped from the shadows. He wore gloves and a blacksmith’s apron. An assortment of wicked-looking blades hung from his belt.

“This is my surgeon.” Lehne nodded. The man stepped up and landed a blow to Jensen’s side, below his ribs.

Jensen grunted, struggled for breath.

“Tell me where to find the boy.”

“I don’t know,” Jensen gasped. “I helped him deliver some barrels and we parted ways.”

“Oh now that, is a shame.” Lehne nodded again.

Rolston slammed his fist into Jensen’s jaw. His head jerked back and he swung in his bonds with the impact, tasting blood.

“You bore me, Redbeard,” Lehne sighed. “But I have every confidence you’ll break.” Then, to Rolston, “Report to me when you learn where the boy is.” With that, he turned and strode from the cabin.

Rolston moved behind Jensen, returning with a cat o' nine tails. Dangled its hempen thongs in Jensen’s face. “Are you sure you don’t know?” he asked, sadistic grin staining his features.

Jensen spat. He would not speak.

Rolston raised the cat. It hummed through the air.

Jensen braced. He would not scream.

 

**

Jared paced _Sable Gale_ as if to wear a trench in her weather deck. Watched the first spark of sunrise tint the sky over Port St. Luc. A hand lit on his shoulder and he startled. Spun.

Collins, Jared thought the man was called. Kindly blue eyes regarded him. “Breakfast is on below. Olsson thought you’d – ”

“Thank you, sir, but no.” Jared bit his lip. “Something’s wrong. The captain should have come back hours ago.”

“Olsson agrees with you,” Collins said. “We’re pulling anchor – ” A shout, and the deck exploded into motion. “ – well, now, I suppose.”

“Pulling anchor?” Jared demanded. “We have to find him!”

“Captain’s orders. Sail for Graveyard Island. He expects _Wolf’s Watch_ to give chase.”

“No, I…” Worry put his stomach in his throat. “I’m going after him.” Jensen had risked his life for Jared. Jared would do no less.

Collins hitched his shoulders. “You’re not a crewman. You're obliged to follow no man’s orders.”

“Then tell Olsson I’m – ” He almost said _sorry_ but it would have been a lie. “Tell Olsson I’ll retrieve the captain.”

Collins smiled and shook his head. “Saints preserve you, lad,” he said. “Godspeed.”

He whipped off down the gangplank, ran as fast as his legs would carry him. If Jensen were captured, as Jared feared, he knew exactly where to find him. He worked up a plan, aimed to talk his way on board. Convince the watch he’d been a prisoner…

Except, the watchman waved him on with nary a question. Seemed the fellow never knew Jared was missing. He slipped below, made his way to the surgeon’s cabin. Ground his teeth when he found a great iron lock barring his progress. Lehne himself would hold the key. Possibly Rolston. Or Sheppard.

_Sheppard._

Jensen had a notion he'd turn on Lehne. The quartermaster might could make a powerful ally, if Jared could reach him.

Squealing hinges drove him back between two stacks of barrels. Faint morning light poured in through the hatch. The ladder creaked angrily with someone’s weight.

Jared waited. Watched. A figure passed his hiding place, too tall for Sheppard, too wiry for Lehne. A bucket swung heavy by Rolston’s side. A clicking lock and creaking door, and Jared slipped through. Pressed into a shadowy corner.

A splash. “Time to wake up, princess.” Rolston’s voice, slurring and smug.

And Jensen’s, hoarse on a muffled groan.

“Oh don’t make a fuss. It’s only seawater. Stings like the Devil though, doesn’t it?”

Jared had Samantha’s pistols. But they’d take time to load and the noise… He peered out from his corner. Rolston liked to leave blades lying – ah!

He finally dared a look at Jensen, who sat on the deck, wrists bound behind a timber. _Oh, God._ His left eye was swollen almost shut, his lip split. Shallow cuts and purpling bruises marred his chest and abdomen. Jared couldn’t bear to think what state Jensen’s back would be in.

Jensen caught his gaze, and Jared pressed a finger to his mouth. Jensen’s right eye ticked. He licked his lips and spoke.

“I have to say,” Jensen rasped, “considering the tales I hear about this ship, I’m disappointed.”

Rolston stalked toward him and Jared dashed, mouse-quiet, toward the discarded blade. He gripped the handle, turned and stood as Jensen called out.

“Jared!”

He was caught. Rolston pulled a dagger from his belt and advanced on Jared. He swung. Jared ducked. Kicked out at an ankle and Rolston stepped back. They rounded one another. Rolston slashed again and this time caught the cloth of Jared’s waistcoat. Buttons flew, but no blood, and while the surgeon was off balance Jared grabbed for his knife hand. Twisted back the arm and Rolston delivered a punch to Jared’s ribs. Winded, Jared barreled into Rolston, driving them both hard into the bulkhead.

There they grappled, neither free to slash at the other. Rolston stomped Jared’s foot and spun away –

Directly into Jensen’s path. On his feet but staggering, frayed ends of rope dangling from his wrists. The captain ducked and deflected Rolston’s dagger, earning nasty gashes on his forearms. Jensen surged, Rolston turned, and Jared drove his blade clean into the surgeon’s chest. Rolston slumped to the deck.

Jared stared as his opponent’s life seeped out in a pool.

“Jared?” Jensen’s voice. “Jared. Jared, are you hurt?”

He blinked. Jensen’s bloody hand gripped his forearm, eyes glassy but wide with concern.

“Am I…?” Jared began. “Am I…? W-what about you? How can you even walk?”

“’S not so easy,” Jensen breathed. He stumbled. Jared rushed him, wrapped his arms around him and Jensen hissed.

“God, oh God I’m sorry.” Jared took ahold of Jensen’s shoulders. Lowered the captain to his knees.

“Got here just in time,” said Jensen. “One more punch, he’d have broken his hand.”

At least his bluster was unharmed. Jared eased his lover down to lie on his side. “You need to rest. I can get you cleaned up.” It _was_ a surgery, in fact, though used for that far less than for… other activities.

Jared barred the door. Tracked down linen strips and drinking water. No anesthetics, save for rum, but it would do. At Jensen’s side he did his best to soothe the captain. Whispered to him. Tended his wounds.


	4. Out of the Wilderness

Jensen came around feeling like he’d just come off a ten-day drunk, if a far sight better than the last time he’d opened his eyes. His entire upper body felt like an enormous bruise. But he was clean, and warm, and wrapped in bandages.

Jared lay next to him, one hand light on Jensen’s hip. The other arm supported his head.

Jared had come for him.

Jared had killed for him.

“Greenhorn?” It hurt to speak.

“I’m here.” Jared’s grip tightened. “We’ll be safe for a while yet.”

“We’re underway.” Jensen felt the pitch and roll of the deck beneath him.

“Graveyard Island,” Jared said. “ _Sable Gale_ got a good head start though.”

Jensen half-grinned through his aching jaw. “Ruddy Jim succeeded, then.”

“And your friend Captain Morgan with his _Man o’ Fire_.” Jared chuckled. “Held _Wolf’s Watch_ in port an hour or more. I could hear Lehne bellowing all the way down here.”

 _An hour?_ “How long was I out?”

“I couldn’t say.” Jared brushed fingers down Jensen’s arm. “I boarded just before sunrise, but I’ve dared not look outside since…” He trailed off.

Jensen grit his teeth and rolled to his hands and knees. Barely stifled a scream. His head spun as his breathing labored.

“You can scream if it helps,” Jared’s palm fell warm on the back of his neck. “You _are_ supposedly being tortured.”

Right. Rolston’s corpse still lay where he fell. From the look of things, so did Jensen. With effort, he straightened to sit on his heels, and this time, yelled his lungs out. Jared’s hand steadied his bicep.

“Why did you come for me?” Jensen asked when he’d recovered his breath. “You had to expect you’d be trapped here.”

Jared’s nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. “I knew what they’d do to you.” A deep breath. “Lehne…” His eyes flicked skyward. “Didn’t want me scarred. Rumor held he planned to work me, starve me until I broke, then ransom me back to my father.” He ran a hand through his hair. “R-Rolston… resented he could only use his cane against me. So, whenever he had a – a ‘patient’ – I was summoned here to watch.”

Ye gods.

Jared’s face was pale. “I didn’t – I didn’t come here to kill him.” His voice trembled. “I-I’ve never…”

“A hard thing, taking a man’s life,” Jensen murmured, “even a sadist.” He reached out and wove their fingers together. “If it helps, you did him clean. He died before he hit the deck. More a mercy than he ever earned.”

It didn’t help. Jensen could see it painted over Jared’s face.

The boy tried to smile anyway, a fragile thing. “You should drink.” Jared produced a cup of water. Tilted it gently against Jensen’s lips.

“What now, then?” Jensen steeled himself. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Your rescue’s only half complete, as I see it.” Curse his battered face. His flirtatious smile felt like getting punched all over again. He tasted blood as the cut on his lip reopened.

“Now? I find Sheppard.”

“I’ll go with you.” Jensen fought to his feet. He swooned, and Jared seized his shoulders, breathing hot against his cheek. Jensen gripped his elbows. Steadied himself.

“You’re in no shape to go anywhere,” Jared said. “And you won’t exactly go unnoticed.” He steered Jensen toward a bunk in the cabin’s far corner. “Rest here if you can.”

Jensen stretched out on his stomach. His bruised ribs howled, but it was preferable to lying on his mangled back. Jared knelt beside him, petted his arm.

“You know, _I’m_ meant to be the gallant hero,” Jensen grumbled and Jared laughed.

“You’ll have your chance if I’m caught.” He drew a pistol from his waistcoat and loaded it. Pressed it half-cocked into Jensen’s hand. “Keep this. I won’t be able to bar the door, so if anyone comes…”

Jensen nodded. “Perhaps fortune will smile upon me and send Lehne.”

Jared grinned. “And no one would ever need know it was anything less than a noble and honorable duel.”

“Less?” Jensen snorted. “Think of the boon to my reputation! ‘Little Redbeard once shot a scoundrel dead in a surgery, while he lay upon death’s door himself!’”

Jared squeezed Jensen’s arm and kissed his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to jest.”

“If Lehne walks through that hatch you’ll see how serious I am.” He laid his head down; pain and exhaustion conspired to drag him under.

Jared stood. “I’ll come back for you, Captain.”

Greenhorn or no, Jensen believed he would.

 

**

Jared eased shut the door to the surgery. Jensen had lost consciousness, and Jared was loath to wake him. He dared not replace the lock. Not least because crewmen were bustling about, preparing for battle. It was common to see Jared leaving the surgery, but locking Rolston in? Well, that would raise an eyebrow.

He stepped alongside a sailor rolling a powder keg. “Rolston’s asked for the quartermaster. Is he above?”

“Aye,” the other man grumbled. “Captain’s cabin, last I knew.”

Blast.

Jared feared for Jensen’s crew. _Wolf’s Watch_ held superior firepower, though _Sable Gale_ had a speed advantage. They’d have a brutal clash, and Lehne would show no mercy. If he had more time…

No. He would simply have to face Captain Lehne. He climbed the ladder and stepped into late morning sun. The pines of Graveyard Island broke up the port horizon. _Not long now._

He paused to let his eyes adjust. And to shore up his courage. Drawing a steadying breath he crossed the deck to the captain’s quarters. Banged on the door as if he were simply performing his duty.

“What is it?!” Lehne’s voice.

“I’ve come from the surgeon,” Jared called. “He requires Quartermaster Sheppard.”

The door swung open. “You?” Lehne cast wide eyes over his shoulder. “I was informed you’d deserted.”

Jared followed Lehne’s gaze and there was Sheppard, bound to a chair. The quartermaster’s face was in worse shape than Jensen’s. _Lehne must be furious,_ Jared thought. _Rare he soils his own hands._

Jared blurted, “The rogue you captured took me prisoner, sir. Meant to use me, I think, in his p-perversions.” He schooled his face into contriteness. “I escaped just before dawn. Rolston waylaid me as I came aboard and – ”

Lehne scowled. “And what is it he wants, of our dear quartermaster?”

“I didn’t ask, sir,” which was true, as far as it went.

“I’ll see to him myself,” said Lehne. Retrieving his hat he turned to Sheppard. “Don’t go anywhere,” he mocked.

Jared risked a pleading look at Sheppard as Lehne brushed past him. Sheppard nodded, near imperceptibly, and Jared barely concealed his relief.

Which promptly evaporated as the lookout called, “Sail ho! Port quarter and closing fast!”

“Ready about!” cried another voice. “All hands, beat to quarters!”

Jared closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

“You, boy!” Lehne shouted, wheeling on him. “Inform Rolston I require his patient.”

“Aye, sir.” Jared sighed.

Below deck, men toted shot and measured powder. The air stunk with sweat and sulfur and Jared swore. He banged on the surgery door, made a show of asking for entry, before he furtively thumbed the latch and let himself in.

Jensen sat up, pistol leveled at Jared’s chest.

“I’m alone.”

Jensen turned his arm aside.

“The captain’s taken Sheppard prisoner and a sail’s been spotted. Might it be your _Sable Gale?_ ”

“Most like,” Jensen replied. “And she’ll lead this tub on a merry chase.” His grin transformed into a grimace.

They lurched as _Wolf’s Watch_ came about.

“Come,” Jensen ordered. “I’ve a plan for getting us to Sheppard. We may still get clear of this without gratuitous killing.” He stood, still appearing unsteady, and Jared took his arms to support him. “Do you trust me, Greenhorn?” Jensen asked.

Jared nodded. “With my life.”

Jensen took Jared’s shoulder and spun him, reached up to wrap an arm around his neck. Jared bent awkwardly to one side and Jensen leaned into him.

“Just play along and help me keep my feet.” With that, Jensen propelled them toward the door. “Open it.”

As Jared did, he felt Jensen’s pistol against his throat. He tensed, and Jensen made a shushing sound in his ear. Jensen walked them out to the gun deck.

Crewmen began to shout.

“Easy, lads!” called Jensen. “I understand this sailor is a favorite of your captain. You don’t want to be the one who got him killed unnecessarily.”

The sailors froze.

“Walk!” he barked at Jared. Men made way as they closed on the ladder.

“Please let me go, sir,” Jared begged. “I make a poor hostage. Captain Lehne – ”

“Belay that talk!” Jensen’s voice turned vicious. “Or shall I finish you as I did your wretched surgeon?”

Murmuring.

They reached the ladder and Jensen loosed his hold on Jared’s neck. “Climb,” he ordered, pistol pressed to Jared’s back. Jared obeyed. As he reached for the hatch Jensen added, “Try to run and I’ll shoot you, boy. Don’t be a fool and you may yet survive.”

“Aye, sir,” Jared said, putting a waver in his voice.

Above deck Jensen seized him again. Breathed heavy against Jared’s chest. Climbing must have been agony. The madness of battle preparations masked their progress toward the captain’s cabin. They’d reached the main mast before Lehne spotted them.

“Gentlemen,” he called to the surrounding sailors, “please detain these men.”

Jensen spun. Pressed the pistol’s muzzle to Jared’s chin.

Lehne strode toward them, wholly calm, hands clasped behind his back. “A hostage, Redbeard?” he taunted. “I’d heard you were more honorable.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jensen threatened. “Rob you of your pet and a hefty ransom, as I understand.”

Lehne nodded to his men. Cutlasses, knives, and pistols appeared. “Just put the gun down, boy. I would prefer not to kill either one of you. Yet.”

Jensen let go Jared’s neck, and bent to lay his pistol on the deck. _No!_ thought Jared, but as the captain stood he seized the gun still hidden in Jared’s waistcoat. Fired through the fabric.

Lehne’s body crumpled, a gruesome hole spilling blood from his chest.

 

**

Jensen seized Jared and shoved him to the deck. Pistols fired and blades closed in, the two of them rolling and ducking. The assault lacked coordination, and it was their saving grace. Jensen found his feet, disarmed a man, and used his cutlass to wave off two more attackers.

Except, as he backed from the throng he felt thick arms wrap around him. A bear of a sailor squeezed his battered ribs. His scored back howled in pain and he dropped his weapon.

“Jared!” he cried, but the lad had his own misfortunes, backed against the main mast and avoiding blows from three sides.

“Avast!” bawled a voice from abaft. “Lay down your arms ye bilge rats! Right, bloody, now!”

Sheppard. The limey son of a bitch meant to save them. Men paused, looked about in confusion.

“Lehne is dead!” he bellowed. “I command this vessel now!” Sheppard strode through the mass of sailors, bruised face and bandaged shoulder detracting none from his authority. “Strike the colors and hand the prisoners over to me!”

Bear-sailor set Jensen’s feet on the deck. Shoved him toward the former quartermaster. Jared’s attackers parted, permitting him to make his own way.

“Gentlemen,” Sheppard crooned, “my quarters?”

Jared nodded warily, Jensen stupidly. His head spun, his sides ached, and his back was fairly screaming. He staggered. Jared took his arm, and they followed the new-raised captain.

Inside, Sheppard drew a glass decanter from an inset carved in a shelf. “Brandy? I abhor the stuff but Lehne had a taste for it.”

“Pass,” said Jensen. Jared shook his head.

Sheppard shrugged. “We can use it to wash off the decks, I suppose.” He sat. “Now. Captain Ackles. I believe you meant to propose a deal?”

Jensen said a silent prayer of thanks. “Aye. I put an end to Lehne, you release me and the boy to _Sable Gale._ ”

“I never agreed, you know.” Sheppard smiled sardonically.

“And yet you didn’t let those sailors kill us,” Jared said.

“Perhaps I mean to ransom the captain here back to his ship. And you to your father, of course.”

“Or I could kill you now and take this ship for my fleet,” retorted Jensen. “Admiral Redbeard. I rather like the sound of that.” He stroked his chin.

Sheppard laughed. “You don’t fool me, _Captain_. You can hardly stand.”

Jensen lowered his voice to menacing. “And yet your former captain lies dead on the deck. So too your surgeon, in the hold.”

Sheppard’s eyes widened a fraction, an instant.

“I’ll tell you what, Redbeard,” he said. “I’m prepared to turn the both of you over to that rabble you call a crew. But I must have a ransom. Mustn’t look weak my first day in command.”

Reasonable. “Aye,” Jensen allowed. “I’ll convince my crew to agree to your ransom.”

“See that you do. Or you’ll wish Lehne had killed you instead.”

Jensen let him have his threat. He was alive, Jared unhurt, and they were free.

Sheppard stalked out, roaring orders. Jensen let Jared lead him to a brightwork table surrounded by spindled chairs, swivel mounted to the deck. Lehne decorated his cabin as lavishly as himself, fine fabrics and varnished wood in every direction. A canopy hung over his bunk. His toilet comprised a basin and pitcher, brushes and powders. A blockhead stood ready to hold Lehne’s wig.

Jared guided him into a chair. “I should find you some clothes.”

“And yourself, while you’re about it,” Jensen said. “Search the captain’s chests.”

Jared rooted through Lehne’s wardrobe, producing fine linen shirts for them both. Lehne’s foppery knew no bounds: an array of silk brocaded waistcoats and velvet coats, silk socks and cravats of cascading lace. Nothing would fit, Jensen too broad of shoulder and Jared too tall. Still, poor fit was preferable to bloodstained rags.

Jared dressed in a crimson waistcoat, long sleeved and lightly embroidered, with black worsted breeches and black socks. He tied a square of silk into a neckerchief.

Jensen hummed. “I should have you in silks every day.”

Jared blushed the shade of his waistcoat, but he tightened his mouth before saying, “I should hope you’d rather have me out of silks.”

“Indeed.” Jensen chuckled. Jared would make a bawdy sailor yet.

Jensen chose a velvet coat and breeches in purple, decked with buttons and thread of gold. A sleeveless waistcoat the color of rust, and the plainest of those frilly cravats. Jared helped him dress. His back, in particular, protested painfully. He mopped his brow and sank into a seat. Let Jared brush dried blood and sweat from his hair.

“I wonder what’s become of my medallion,” Jensen mused.

“I suspect someone claimed it,” Jared said. “I looked for it in the surgery, but…”

“Aye.” Jensen pursed his lips, annoyed. He was fond of that medallion. Picked it up on Montserrat a few years back and hadn’t gone without it since.

“I fear your hat is lost as well.” Jared tied Jensen’s hair back and set to arranging his own.

“Come.” Jensen reached out, guided Jared to sit between his feet. He took the hairbrush, tenderly worked out tangles. “I’m sure our departed captain has a surplus.”

Jared’s head bobbed. “Aye, and each more extravagant than the last. Some days I swore an ostrich had died on his head.”

He barked a laugh, then groaned as his ribs objected. He’d underestimated Jared, his courage and wit. That sort of thing could get a man killed.

He was out of his depth, to be certain. He’d shot Sheppard to protect Alona, gone after Lehne to protect his own arse. And when he failed, Jared had come for him. Astonished wouldn’t make a patch on it. He hadn’t even thanked the man.

The door banged open and Sheppard strode in. Raised his eyebrows, looked them up and down in their dead man’s clothes. “If you two girls are finished, _Sable Gale_ has drawn abeam.”

“Almost,” Jensen tied Jared’s pigtail and laid down the brush. Threw Sheppard a wink.

Jared stood. Offered his hand but Jensen used the tabletop to lever himself to his feet. If he failed to cover his grimace, no one mentioned it.

 

**

Jared worried, but he forced his features smooth. Jensen needed a stalwart crewman, not a fretful lover. He threw open cupboards until he found hats. Picked out two of the least garish, dark grey with thick gold trim for Jensen, tobacco with red-dyed feathers for himself.

Sheppard had ordered a table put up on the quarterdeck. He and Jensen sat. Armstrong and Blackeyed Corin stood behind their new captain. Jared took a post behind his. _Sable Gale_ men boarded, armed as if to take a man-o-war. Olsson approached the captains, scanned the deck.

“Stow your weapons, lads,” Jensen commanded. “Captain Sheppard and I must establish terms.”

“Aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, aiming a glare at Sheppard as he sheathed his cutlass. He stood next to Jared. Acknowledged him with a narrow-eyed nod.

Negotiations largely repeated the captains’ exchange from before – with a sight more roaring and threatening on Sheppard’s part. Jensen never cowed. His voice held steady, contrasting his rival’s bluster.

A ransom price was agreed at length, and Jensen ordered crewmen to ready a chest. “Collect your duffel,” he said to Jared. “We’ll disembark as soon as the gold’s aboard.”

“Aye, sir,” Jared replied.

He whipped off for the fore hatch. Hurried to pack his bag and return to his captain. _Wolf’s Watch_ men hauled in their ransom as he climbed to the quarterdeck.

Jensen turned to Olsson and shook his hand. “Fine sailing this morning.” He took Jared’s. “And a fine rescue.”

A moment’s eye contact, and Jared braced himself. Jensen gripped his hand as if to break it and heaved up from the chair. Slapped Jared’s back as they collided, a fair imitation of camaraderie.

Jensen straightened his clothes. “Permission to disembark, Captain Sheppard?”

“By all means, Captain Ackles!” Then, under his breath, “by all bloody means.”

A shallow bow and Jensen strode from the quarterdeck, Jared and Olsson flanking.

“Lads,” the captain ordered, “Get us disentangled from _Wolf’s Watch_.” He turned to Olsson. “You have command. Return us to Port St. Luc.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jensen cocked his head and Jared followed, labored to mask his concern. Any minute now he feared Jensen would collapse. They boarded _Sable Gale_ and headed aft, toward Jensen’s cabin.

His quarters were small and Spartan, in contrast to his room at Samantha’s. Along one side, and taking up most of the space, sat a rough-hewn table surrounded by benches, bolted fast to the deck. Chests were lashed along the other, beneath built-in cupboards running the length of the bulkhead. A folded hammock hung to one side of a skylight.

Jensen slumped to a bench. “You can stow your gear in the cupboard.” He pulled off his hat and wiped his brow. “Then find Doc Benedict and bring him here.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jensen shot him a look. “Did you sign the Articles while I was away?”

Jared blinked. “No.”

Jensen took his hand. “Forgive me,” he sighed. “This must be strange for you. It is for me.” His thumb traced Jared’s knuckles. “It’s not my habit to bring friends aboard.”

Jared drew his brows together, tilted his head. Was that what they were? “I’ll bring the surgeon.” He sounded stiff. The deck shifted and they were underway. Jared mounted the ladder, almost reached the hatch.

“Greenhorn?”

Jared closed his eyes and smiled at the nickname. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” Jensen rumbled.

A beat as Jared collected himself. “It’s my pleasure, Captain.”

Out on the weather deck Jared gasped. He’d known _Sable Gale_ was built for speed, seen her narrow hull and shallow draft in port. But he’d never seen her sails unfurled. Both her masts flew fore-and-aft mainsails, square-rigged topsails capping each. A staysail and two jibs bulged above her bow and long bowsprit. She tore through the water.

“Something, isn’t she?” A sailor he’d seen at the Iron Lady caught him gaping. Stuck out his hand. “Os.”

Jared took it. “Jared.”

“Treat her right and she’ll outrun any ship in the Main.”

“She is beautiful,” Jared said.

“Aye she is.” Os agreed.

Someone shouted. Os shot Jared a grin and went running.

Jared sought the surgeon below. Walked between barrels and stacks of crates, full of goods, he suspected, from the crew’s last raid. Approaching the stern, he spied two doors. One would be officers’ quarters. The other was most like the surgery.

Picking the starboard side, Jared knocked. A brown-haired man dressed in only a shirt appeared. “What?”

“Forgive me, sir,” said Jared. “I’d hoped I’d found the surgery.”

“Well you’ve found the cook. Though I wouldn’t bet on which of us is the butcher. That one.” He pointed larboard and slammed the door.

“Don’t mind Spit, er, Speight,” came a voice through the neighboring hatch as it opened. A bearded man with curly hair motioned Jared inside. “He’s just riled at being pulled from a woman’s bed this morning.”

“Are you Doc Benedict?”

“I am,” replied the surgeon. “And you’re the captain’s boy.”

Jared’s mouth went tight but he nodded. “The captain requests you attend him in his quarters. He…” Jared paused, unsure how much to say.

“Was prisoner on _Wolf’s Watch_. Tortured?”

Jared bowed his head. “Aye, sir.”

Doc pulled on his coat and cap. “Well, let’s see to him, then. Be useful and carry my medicine chest.”

Jared hefted the surgeon’s supplies and they made for the captain.


	5. The Shadows Flee

Jensen awoke to find Jared occupying his hammock. He’d sprawled on the table, following a dose of Doc’s opiates. He groaned as he moved. Jared flew to his side, hair mussed, waistcoat open, shirt untucked. The sun had set.

“We’re moored,” said Jensen, “and no one woke me.”

“You needed sleep. When Olsson knocked I made as if you’d,” Jared gestured at his rumpled appearance, “exerted yourself.” He averted his gaze.

“You didn’t spoil my ruse.”

Jared’s eyes made plain his low opinion of said ruse. “Doc Benedict impressed on me the weight you give discretion.” He sniffed. “In medical matters.”

Jensen huffed a laugh, sat up with effort. Clad in breeches and bandages, he shivered. “Will you fetch me some clothes?”

“Aye.” Jared laughed as he rose.

“What?”

“I dress you like my sisters with their dolls.”

Jensen feigned indignance. “Am I your plaything, then? Your little toy?”

“That, brave Captain, depends on the game.” Jared’s back was turned, but Jensen envisioned him blushing.

Jared handed him a linen shirt and waistcoat. Made himself presentable while Jensen dressed, reached for his coat.

“No coat,” Jared said. “Doc’s orders.”

“I can’t go about in my shirtsleeves. The women will be scandalized!”

“We’ll be taking a carriage,” Jared pronounced. “And I shudder to think what would scandalize the women in this town.”

“I do not need a carriage,” Jensen protested.

“It’s already hired. So no arguments.” Jared pulled his duffel from the cupboard.

“Forgive me for asking, but how did you manage that?”

Jared’s dimples flashed with a spark of mischief. “I emptied the _Wolf’s Watch_ surgery.” He patted his bag. “I’ve gold and medicines sufficient to _buy_ a carriage.”

Impressive. “So. You’ve a little pirate in you after all.”

Sure enough, a carriage awaited them on the harbor road. Jensen never bothered with the things. A foolhardy expense when a man could walk and spend his gold on rum. At least, saints be praised, Jared didn’t hold the door for him. The man’s attentions gnawed at Jensen. He didn’t object, exactly, but he was… unaccustomed.

“Are you comfortable?” Jared asked when the carriage was moving. “I mean, considering…”

“Comfortable enough.” Jensen studied Jared’s face. His eyes looked brown under the carriage lantern. Dark circles hung heavy beneath them and his beard was growing in. “Jared,” Jensen had to know. “Why fuss over me?”

“Why?” A muscle clenched in Jared’s jaw. “Because… Because I dragged you into all this.”

“Rubbish,” said Jensen. “I make my own decisions.”

“But if we hadn’t met, you’d be hale and drunk right now, instead of…” Jared turned to look out the window.

“Instead of what?”

“Instead of wrapped up like a mummy in the company of a fool.”

Jensen blinked. They rode in silence.

At length the carriage deposited them before the Iron Lady. The common room overflowed, _Sable Gale, Man o’ Fire,_ even _Wolf’s Watch_ lads. Jared’s ruse had made the rounds; whistles and ribald commentary assailed them. Jensen brushed it off. One more handsome sailor following him up the stairs would make no mark on his reputation.

Jared didn’t speak, but hovered close until they reached Jensen’s room. “Would you like some food?” he asked. “I’ll have Alona bring you something.”

“Are you leaving?” Jensen perched on the bed.

Jared shrugged. “You need your rest. Doc will see to your injuries. I could bring your supper, I suppose, but…”

“Bring supper for both of us. I’m sure I smell pork barbecue.”

Jared’s lips pressed tight, but he nodded.

Samantha’s barbecue could make a man weep. She sent it up with onions, bread, and wine, and Jensen stuffed himself. Jared picked at his supper, still not talking, until Jensen had enough.

“Am I holding you against your will? Because – ”

“No!” Jared grimaced.

“Well something’s fouled your lines.”

“I…” Jared blew out a breath. “You’re hurt because of me, and you don’t want me making a fuss but…” He dropped his voice low. “I feel responsible for you.” He shredded a bit of pork between his fingers.

Jensen mulled that over. “Do you wish to stay?”

Jared nodded without looking up.

“Then stay. Behind closed doors you can fuss all you like.”

Jensen still had to coax Jared into the bed. Lines of worry creased Jared’s face as he looked over Jensen’s bandaged torso.

“What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll live.”

“But I’ll crowd you.”

“You won’t.”

“I might snore.”

“Enough,” said Jensen. “We’ll be fine.” He lay on his side and drew Jared’s back to his chest. Wrapped an arm around Jared’s waist and kissed between his shoulders. “See?”

Jared laid his arm on top of Jensen’s and wove their fingers together. Exhaustion took them.

A knock sounded and Jared sprang from the bed. “That’ll be Doc,” he said, racing to pull on his breeches.

Jensen squinted, groaned at the late morning light. Doc’s opiates had run their course, and he was back to feeling like a walking bruise.

“ _Petit?_ ” Samantha’s voice. “Captain Morgan _est là pour vous voir_.”

“Send him up,” Jensen called. He dragged himself into a sitting position.

Jared looked scandalized. “You’re receiving him here?”

Jensen stifled a chuckle. _Still a society boy_. “Jared. Captain Morgan raised me as his son. I’d get another beating if I made him wait in a dining room.”

“Oh.” Jared’s eyes darted. “Oh, I mustn’t be here!”

This time Jensen couldn’t hold his laughter. “Greenhorn. Do you think he didn’t hear the rumor you set raging yesterday?”

“That makes it worse!”

The door swung wide and Jensen’s father ended their discussion. “Well, how bad are ye, son?”

Jensen curled his lip. “I’ve had worse.”

“D’ye take me for daft? Ye was captive aboard that ship o’ horrors, and if I’da known it yesterday I’da stormed her where she moored.” He turned to Jared. “You, lad. I hear ye went after him?”

Jared looked fit to jump out the window. “Aye, sir.”

“Well I thank ye.” He crossed the room and gave Jared a firm handshake. “Someone’s got to look after the lad, seein’s he’s loath t’ do it himself.”

“O-of course, sir.” Jared nodded. “I should give you privacy. If you’ll excuse me?” He fled.

Morgan chuckled as he watched him go. “Tall as a main mast, that one.” He sat and poured a cup of wine. “I’ll have the truth from ye now. What possessed ye t’ go after Frederic Lehne?”

“I shot his quartermaster. After that it was a question of survival.”

“Sheppard? The man ye raised t’ captain?”

“Aye,” Jensen said. “He came here threatening the women. Would you have let that stand?”

“No,” Morgan sighed. “But why give him command?”

“Sheppard’s cruel, but he’s not sadistic. He can be reasoned with when he’s not under orders.”

“And what orders brought him here, then?”

Jensen’s jaw clenched. “He came to fetch Jared.”

“The main mast?”

“Aye. Lehne meant to extract a ransom from his family.”

Morgan scrubbed a hand across his mouth. Cast his eyes skyward. Then, “Did ye really shoot the quartermaster because o’ the women?” He pinned Jensen with a stare. “Or did ye shoot him for the boy?”

“Father!”

Morgan showed his palms. “I mean no offense, son. Heavens know I despaired of grandchildren ages ago.”

Jensen buried his face in his hands. “Must we discuss this?”

“Aye. For whatever your reason, what ye done was foolish.” He heaved a sigh. “You’re a young man, son, and ye think you’re invincible. I ain’t so old as I don’t remember. But…” He took a long draught. “The sea’s not been the same since it claimed Port Royal. They’re hangin’ pirates left and right, lad.”

“I know,” Jensen said quietly.

“All I’m askin’ is that ye be careful. Don’t make me and that boy come collect your bones from a gibbet.”

“Jared? Why would he – ”

“Saints preserve me, I’ve brought up a fool. He fancies ye, son.”

Jensen’s eyes fell closed.

“And he’s not one o’ your tavern boys, t’ be certain.”

Jensen smiled a little. That, at least, was true.

Morgan drained his cup and stood. “You’re surgeon’s awaitin’ in the common room. I’ll send him along.”

“Thank you,” said Jensen.

“O’ course.” Morgan took his hand. “Think on what I’ve said, son. Saints preserve ye.”

“And you, Father.”

 

**

Jared ducked into the common room. Behind the bar, a red-haired girl was struggling to clean a high shelf.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

She turned, took in his disordered hair and ill-fitting clothes. “Aye, what can I do for you?”

“Ah, nothing I… you look like you could use a hand.”

“A volunteer?” She handed him her cleaning rag. “Be my guest.”

The barmaid Felicia kept Jared hopping, wiping shelves and fetching barrels. She snapped him with rags, made indecent remarks, and deliberately mixed up his orders.

Captain Morgan spoke to him. “Have ye been pressganged, sailor?” he jested.

“No, sir.” Jared kept his features firm before Jensen’s father. _What he must think!_ “I don’t like sitting still. And Jensen, I-I mean Captain Ackles needs – ”

“Lad.” Morgan dropped his chin. He looked up at Jared, but somehow he looked _down_ at Jared. “Ye needn’t observe formalities for me. Ye risked your own self for me boy. That counts a great deal where I’m concerned.”

“Aye, sir.”

The captain held Jared’s gaze, and Jared couldn’t help but feel as if Morgan was taking his measure.

“Fraternizing?” Felicia broke in.

“Nay, lass. Bein’ o’ service. N’ how ’bout that beer, lad?”

“Aye, sir.”

Morgan made for a table.

Morning turned to afternoon before Doc Benedict collected Jared. “Cap tells me you’re the one dressed his injuries.”

“Aye, sir.”

Doc bobbed his head. “You did a fine job. The wounds are clean, no infection. I doubt he’ll even scar, apart from a cut to his forearm.”

Jared swore. “I knew I should’ve stitched it. But there were no anesthetics and – ”

“Jared.” Doc laid a hand on his arm. “I’m paying you a compliment.”

His shoulders slumped. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Now, hurry along. Cap’s asking after you. I gave him opiates, so he’ll sleep again soon.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I wish you’d call me Doc.”

“Yes, Doc.”

The surgeon’s smile widened. “Oh, and Jared? I left clean linens in the armoire. If you’re willing to change the bandages…”

“Of course.”

“Send a messenger if you need me.”

“Yes, Doc.”

A pat on the arm, and Doc left out of the tavern.

Jensen’s eyes were wide and glassy, somehow even greener. He lay against the headboard, stack of pillows supporting his back.

“Greenhorn!” Jensen smiled, broad and muzzy, crinkling the sides of his eyes. Jared stifled a laugh. “You just missed Doc. He says you did a fine job patching me up yesterday.”

“That was kind of him.”

“No.” The captain’s eyes grew wide and serious. “It was kind of you. And brave! Coming to my rescue.” His lashes fluttered.

“You’d have done the same,” said Jared.

Jensen sank lower and lower. “For a man I just met? Hardly.”

Jared winced.

“You were free. All you had to do was hop a merchantman and sail away.” A yawn extended Jensen’s last few words. He was curled on his side, fading.

Jared perched on the bed. Brushed errant hairs away from Jensen’s face. The ache he’d been carrying ratcheted up.

“I’m going to market,” he said. “Can I bring you anything?”

“Mint,” Jensen mumbled. In another heartbeat he was snoring.

Jared collected the purse he’d lifted from Rolston’s surgery. Cursed at himself. He should have acquired a belt from Captain Lehne.

He’d need another shirt or two, a pair each of wool and linen breeches. A gentleman’s coat and a monkey jacket. Perhaps four waistcoats, depending on his gold. He wouldn’t sell his medicines unless it became a necessity.

Thankfully he found a tailor who offered a fair price for his clothes. The man expected to deliver Jared’s first suit two days hence. In the end he chose to forego belt and baldric. He’d seen enough sailors use ropes. He could do likewise.

Jared headed down the market street toward the harbor. Sellers of herbs congregated there, catering to ship’s cooks. Barefoot girls sold flowers and matches. Before the great church, a few dirty-faced boys peddled medallions and rosaries. He walked by a cordwainer and a jeweler, and closer to the waterfront butchers and fishmongers. Rumbling carts and carriages passed, their drivers shouting. Men he knew for sailors by their swagger and landed folk alike carried parcels.

As he reached the harbor road Jared realized he’d failed to bring a pouch for Jensen’s mint. But a bored sailmaker’s apprentice stitched him up a scrap of canvas that would serve. He’d waited far too late in the day for this excursion, most of the herbsellers’ wares having wilted under the tropical sun. At length he settled on a bundle whose leaves had only slightly curled. Stuffed it in his pouch and turned toward town.

The Iron Lady’s common room buzzed low, still early for most men’s supper. Jared slipped into Jensen’s room long enough to stow his purse, lay the mint on the table. He hadn’t eaten properly, again. Hunger had become his habit. He grabbed a few coins.

Downstairs he took a seat at a rough-hewn table. An unlit candle sat in its center. Alona brought him bread and cheese, a cup of wine, and some sort of berry tart he hadn’t ordered. He asked what he owed.

“Nothing, _cher_. _Maman_ says you don’t pay. Says she owes you a half-day’s wages.”

Jared creased his brow. “I wasn’t expecting payment.”

Alona shrugged. “I do as _Maman_ says. You should do the same.”

He chuckled. It was sound advice.

 

**

The third time Jensen woke and Jared was missing, he grew worried. He hadn’t told anyone Jared’s father was wealthy, but he wouldn’t bet on _Wolf’s Watch_ men showing the same discretion. He heard carousing in the street and from the common room. He must have slept six, maybe seven hours?

Too long, at any rate. He dragged himself up. Washed his face and ran hands through his hair. He needed a waistcoat. Something with sleeves. He…

A canvas pouch lay on the table. Filled with mint leaves. He blinked. Samantha might have… No, she knew he bought his mint fresh from the harbor. Not one to turn down a blessing, he took a pinch to chew on.

Clothes, yes. The lads had brought his shore chest up this morning. Donning a waistcoat exhausted him. He sat. Jared could be in the common room. Or he could be in irons en route to Virginia. For that matter, he could have hopped a ship for parts unknown. Jensen steadied himself.

Relief washed over him when he heard Jared’s laugh. Immediately thereafter, fury seized him. He marched down the stairs in a storm, which grew blacker as he realized Jared was serving tables.

Jensen sat. Jared spied him and came over.

“Rum,” he ordered.

“I can bring you wine,” Jared replied. “You know Doc said – ”

“You want to play tavern boy, well I’m a customer. Bring me a rum.”

“Jensen I – ”

Alona appeared like a phantom. “Jared, _cher_ , thank you for helping. I’ll bring wine to the captain’s room.” She shot a pointed look at Jensen. “And a rum.”

Jared’s eyes pled with him, forehead folded.

“Fine,” said Jensen. He shot up from the chair and regretted it instantly. Fortunate his scowl and grimace bore a resemblance.

Jared followed him back upstairs and Jensen stomped across the room. Alona came close behind, wine and one useless serving of rum, as promised. She slipped out with another pointed look.

“Where have you been all day?” Jensen demanded. “Serving tables?”

Jared looked out the sides of his eyes, nose and mouth crinkled. “I went to market.” He gestured at the table. “I brought your mint.”

 _Oh_. “Well what was all that downstairs then?”

“Half a merchant ship came in. I’d just finished supper and – ”

“You had supper?”

“Yes.” Jared shook his head, eyes wide. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I thought some pirate had snatched you. Lehne’s plans for you aren’t a secret.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Jared’s mouth. “You were worried about me?”

“Yes!” Jensen pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what to do with you, Greenhorn.”

Head bowed and looking at Jensen through his lashes, Jared said, “I hope you have an idea, at least.”

“What I should do is bundle you back to Virginia.”

All the warmth drained out of Jared’s face. “Of course. And have the ransom Lehne coveted for yourself?”

“What? No!” Jensen downed the rum. He needed to collect himself. “Have you even thought about what to do next? Do you mean to stay here? Serve drinks?” _Fuck sailors?_

Jared opened his mouth. Closed it again. He made a study of his shoes.

“Surely you don’t mean to go on pirating. The sea’s treacherous, Jared. What would become of me if I had to see you washed overboard?”

Jared’s shoulders began to tremble. He shook his head and mirthless laughter bubbled out. “I’ve been free of Lehne for one day. One. Forgive me if I haven’t figured out the rest of my life.” He sat. Poured wine. They lingered in silence.

Jensen fiddled with the mint pouch. Glanced at Jared. At least half the times he looked, the man was looking back. The urge he’d felt from the moment they met, to shelter Jared, hadn’t abated.

“Where did you go, at the market?” he asked at last. “I see no parcels.”

Jared shrugged. “I ordered clothes. Not anything fancy,” he gestured at his silks, “but at least they’ll fit.”

“You sold your booty, then?” Jensen couldn’t help but grin.

“No,” Jared replied. “I mean to hang onto it if I can, in case you…”

“So you don’t mean to sail off right away?”

“Do you wish I would?” Jared bristled. “You keep mentioning it.”

 _What?_ “When have I mentioned it?”

“Today! You said you wouldn’t have come for me aboard  _Wolf’s Watch_ , and you expected I’d hop a merchantman and disappear.”

“And even after that, you came back.” He reached for Jared’s hand where it lay on the table. “Brought me my mint.” He grinned. Perhaps his father was right. “Will you forgive me? Opiates are no excuse, but – ”

Jared threw his head back. Folded his brow. “Of course I forgive you.” He met Jensen’s gaze. In the setting sun, Jared’s eyes were almost gold.

“Then, will you join me for supper? I’d like to get out of this room.”

“No rum.” Jared exaggerated sternness.

Jensen raised his hand in an oath. “No rum.”

 

**

A threat of rain could not demoralize Jared. Not when his new suit had come, and Doc had pronounced Jensen well enough to see to his ship. They’d all but raced out the door.

Jensen still bore nasty marks, and his ribs must have screamed. But a man like Jensen suffered more from being cooped up than from physical pains. Their pace was slow, but Jared had no complaints.

Men swarmed over _Sable Gale_ like ants on a mound, testing rigging, running lines. Jensen climbed to the quarterdeck, ran his hands over the wheel. Jared lingered near the main mast. Quarterdecks were officers-only, and he still didn’t know how to behave aboard Jensen’s ship.

He spotted Collins.

“Can you arrange a seat for the captain?” he asked quietly. “I don’t know if he’ll use it but I know he won’t ask.”

Collins smiled conspiratorially. “I know just the thing.”

Os and two other lads passed by toting a crate, out of balance and heavy. Jared stepped in and took a corner. Os nodded gratitude. When it was settled, he asked, “Are you looking to help?”

“I see no reason not to,” Jared grinned. “A good excuse to lay hands on a fine lady.”

Os grimaced. “I’m on caulking detail.”

Jared shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Os showed him a place to stow his shirts. Caulking was hot and dirty and no man wanted tar in his clothes. Jared cast his eyes to the quarterdeck. Collins had produced a stool, and climbed it to inspect a spot on the boom. He left it behind. Caught Jared looking and threw him a wink.

Before long Jensen was seated there, conferring with his officers. A logbook lay in his lap, and he fought the wind as it lifted the pages. The next time Jared looked, Jensen was pointing aloft, his face to the sun and smiling to give it a race. The third time, he was looking at Jared.

It became their routine. Jensen slept late of a morning while Jared did odd jobs for Samantha. She was relentless about owing him wages. He convinced her to credit his work against Jensen’s room.

In the afternoon, they walked to the harbor. Jared spliced ropes, caulked seams, scrubbed decks. Doc took him along to resupply the surgery – curious about Colonial remedies, and anything he’d gleaned from Rolston. Some days Jensen brought him to the quarterdeck. Told him stories. Bragged on his ship.

Evenings passed in the Iron Lady’s common room, sharing supper with Jensen’s lads and retiring with wine as the sun set. Night after night Jensen brought him to bed, wrapped strong arms around him and claimed him with kisses. Jared stubbornly refused Jensen’s more… spirited suggestions. He’d never forgive himself if he caused his captain any more pain.

Ten days after Jared’s escape Samantha insisted she had no more work for him. “You’ve cleaned everything. Repaired everything. Unless you mean to build another floor…”

Jared laughed. A notion struck him as he thought on how to fill his time. He crept upstairs and retrieved his purse.

“If Jensen wakes, please tell him I’ve gone to get his mint,” he told Alona.

She narrowed an eye at him. “What are you up to?”

Jared spread his palms. “Nothing!”

“Mmm-hm.” Alona shook her head. “Stay out of trouble, _cher_.”

Jared grinned. He dashed down the street to the church. Approached one of the boys selling medals.

“Saint Nicholas?”

“This is a pirate town, Mister. What do you think? Half a crown. One reale.”

He wasn’t that much of a fool. “For a bit of bronze? I’ll pay a shilling.”

“Two?” the boy pressed.

“One,” Jared insisted.

“One and sixpence.”

“Fine, but I’ll have a chain as well.”

“Chain’s a shilling.”

Jared grinned. “You’ve a bright future in trade, boy. Two shillings for both.”

The boy beamed such to make Jared wonder if he’d been taken. Tucking the pendant and chain in his pocket he made for the harbor road.

 

**

On the fifth consecutive night that Jensen insisted he was well enough to get drunk, Jared gave up arguing. All but his worst cuts had healed, and the last of his bruises were fading to yellow. Jared sat at his side, loaded to the gunnels, laughter revealing his dimples such to drive a sailor mad.

He had no idea what to do about Jared. Never had he taken a lover he wanted to keep. He’d had his favorites: tavern boys and sailors – a memorable week in Macapa with a dockworker who sprinkled hashish in his pipe. No one like Jared, though.

The man could fight, rig sails, doctor wounds – and better than most ship’s surgeons in Jensen’s experience. He’d lent his hands to _Sable Gale_ , and let Felicia run him ragged. When he kissed, his whole body was in it, even those first few days when they’d barely touched. Not like a tavern boy showing off for his meal ticket. Like –

Jensen stiffened as a hush fell on the room. He scanned for trouble and thought he’d found it, in the person of Captain Sheppard.

“Redbeard!” he called.

“Sheppard.”

“I’ve come to extend an invitation.”

A flat stare.

“It seems the lads of _Wolf’s Watch_ have had their fill of the Empire. We’ve drawn up papers, held elections. We sail for ourselves now.”

Jensen spread his hands. “I’ve yet to hear what any of this has to do with me.”

“It’s a christening, my dear captain! Or, a re-christening. _Wolf’s Watch_ has such a nasty reputation. As of tonight, I command _Queen of the Crosswinds_. Please, collect your men and join our celebration.”

Jared was eyeing the limey suspiciously. Jensen shared his sentiment. “I think not, Captain. My crew and I – ”

“Surely you don’t hold a grudge over your ransom.” Sheppard stopped just short of sulking. “I offer a truce, Redbeard. Do you decline?”

Jensen looked around at his men, who mostly shrugged their shoulders. Jared cocked his head, raised his eyebrows.

“All right,” he sighed. “We’ll join you.”

An hour and a dozen toasts later, Jared sidled up behind him. “I believe,” Jared whispered, low and dangerous, “if we slipped away now no one would miss us.” His lips brushed provocatively at Jensen’s ear.

He met his lover’s eyes. “I believe you’re right.” A wind picked up, blew back hair that had loosed from Jared’s pigtail. Billowed his unbuttoned waistcoat. Jensen thought of jacks and sails. No wonder this man had got under his skin. “Let’s go, Main Mast.”

Jared exploded with laughter. “Main Mast?”

“Just something my father said,” Jensen demurred. Grinned.

Walking close so their arms brushed together with every step, they made for the Iron Lady.


	6. Pillars of Marble

Jared was kissing his captain before the man had closed the door. Jensen’s tongue stroked across his lips and Jared opened, surrendered. They’d waited almost two weeks for this. Blaze. Jared had waited his whole life.

Jensen tasted of rum and his mint leaves, smelled of salty seas and fertile earth. Jared walked them toward the bed as they fed on desperate groans.

Jared cursed the inventor of buttons as he wrestled Jensen free of his coat. He’d grown accustomed to having the captain shirtless, applying balms and bandages to his injuries, all but healed at last.

Jensen undressed him with damnable patience, running hands all over his body as each layer fell away. Jared grunted frustration, tugged at Jensen’s shirt. The captain tipped back his head and laughed, eyes crinkled and glimmering in the setting sun.

“Wait,” Jensen whispered, stepping away. Jared grabbed for his waist and Jensen batted his hands, chuckling. “Patience, Greenhorn.” He retrieved a tinderbox from the desk. “Bring a candle.”

Jared brought two from the mirrored sconces. Jensen lit both. They each took one and in time filled the room with golden light.

Jared seized his lover, kissed the whiskered ridge of Jensen’s jaw from ear to chin.

“Shoes off,” Jensen ordered, sat to shuck his boots. When it was done he crawled to the mattress’s middle, hand out in invitation.

Jared hastily removed his shoes and climbed in after, pulling down the sheers. Sounds of revelry drifted in from the street below. Candlelight reflected off the polished headboard and spindles, glowed through the pale silk sheers. Linen sheets and soft wool blankets pooled around him. Jensen’s shirt clung to his skin as he reached for Jared. Eyes like nighttime pines raked over his chest. Sun-bleached hair fell around Jensen’s shoulders. Tongue ran out to wet his lips. Jared shivered.

He closed his eyes and felt his body tighten. Want so deep it pulled his bones. And terror. What if he failed Jensen in this? He wasn’t a child, but he had no experience. Men lamented unskilled lovers everywhere. What if he –

Jensen kissed him. Pressed soft lips into Jared’s and stole his breath. He untied Jared’s hair, ran strands between his fingers. Stroked his neck and shoulders. Comforting. Captivating. Jared pulled his lover’s lip between his teeth and Jensen moaned. Fingers dug into his back. Jared bit harder.

Jensen broke away to tear off his shirt. Drove Jared into the pillows, swung a leg across his hips. Jensen licked and nipped at Jared’s earlobe, dragged his lips and tongue down Jared’s neck. He broke out in bumps as Jensen’s beard scraped over the tender flesh.

Jared squeezed his lover’s arms, caressed his back. Wrapped his legs around Jensen’s hips and dragged him closer. Jensen hummed, mouthed his way over Jared’s shoulder, licked his collarbone. Jared was half-mad with it, groaning helplessly, “Please, Jensen…” though he couldn’t have said what he was begging for.

Then Jensen drew one of Jared’s nipples into his mouth. Jared cried out. Hips rose off the mattress and Jensen sucked, caught the hardening bud in his teeth and flicked his tongue across the point. Traced a fat wet circle on Jared’s skin. Again and again, soft wet sounds touched his ears and when he thought he could bear no more Jensen moved to his other side. Thumb lazily brushing the nipple he’d just licked raw. Jared tore at his hair and rocked against Jensen, so hard he ached, and sure he’d burn alive if Jensen didn’t stop.

When he did stop, Jared felt him trembling. No. Not trembling. Jensen was laughing. Eyes, so dark with want, looked like to overflow. Jared touched his lover’s cheek. “Jensen?”

“I hardly believe you’re real.” He pressed their lips together, tongue demanding entrance. Jared’s fingers wove through Jensen’s hair and he sighed. “Your body…” He trailed a finger down Jared’s ribs. He hissed and writhed, and Jensen moaned. “I want so much to be inside you, may I… Will you have me fuck you, Jared?”

Jared drew a ragged breath. He nodded. Searched his lover’s face for reassurance.

“Then it’s time I had you naked.” Jensen smiled, a wicked thing, and Jared found all the assurance he required.

Jensen took his time, opening Jared’s breeches. Ran his hands inside, over the points of Jared’s hips and under his cheeks. When he pitched upward Jensen pulled, stripped Jared bare and cast his socks and breeches off the bed.

The captain paused and licked his perfect lips. Looked Jared over and his skin flushed hot. He shut his eyes. If he looked at Jensen’s face, he feared, his heart would burst.

 

**

Ye gods Jared was beautiful.

Looking up at him, anxious and pleading, hair spread wild across the pillows and his chest heaving unsteadily. His prick curved upward, blood-dark and straining, shining wetly where it stretched beyond his foreskin.

Jensen’s mouth watered. He made all haste to divest himself and ended lying on his back. Jared rolled into him, loomed over him, hair cascading around his face. Jared’s eyes were dark as sin, cheeks pink and lips kiss-slick. Jared looked him over, eyes ablaze when they fell on his face. A great hand slid up Jensen’s chest, his neck, cradled his jaw. Jared’s thumb traced the dip of Jensen’s chin.

Curling his fingers into Jared’s hair Jensen dragged his lover down, plundered his mouth. Jared laid soft kisses along Jensen’s neck down to his shoulder, buried his face in the curve of muscle there. Thrusting gently against his thigh, Jared bared his teeth and worried the skin. Jensen groaned and Jared took his prick in hand, sliding slowly up the length.

Jensen rolled onto his side and hooked a leg around his lover’s hips. Their cocks collided and Jared gasped. Jensen snaked his hand between them, wrapped it around Jared’s and guided him to stroke them both together. Jared’s eyes rolled back and his nostrils flared. He pressed his forehead against Jensen’s. There they rocked into each other, faster and faster.

Jared opened his eyes. As heat and want and adoration poured forth Jensen came off. Spilled and shouted Jared’s name as his muscles seized. On rolled his hips and distantly he heard his lover chanting.

“God, Jensen, ohh, God, – ” Jared shook beside him. Hand between them squeezing, milking.

Spots obliterated Jensen’s vision. “Jared,” he breathed as he fell slack.

Moments passed, and Jensen recovered his wits. Jared trembled in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin and legs tangled together. Jensen stroked his hair, spun strands of it around his fingers. Sighed contentedly.

Jared stirred at last, rolled onto his back and stretched, exposing the line of his throat and extending his chest up maddeningly. Jensen pushed up to an elbow and Jared regarded him with a muzzy grin. Jensen lifted Jared’s hand and kissed across his knuckles.

Jared’s eyes slid closed and he seemed to sink into the mattress. Jensen plied his lover’s mouth with languid kisses. Drew his fingers along Jared’s ribs. Drifted lower. Traced the lines of Jared’s abdomen, through the wet of their release. Dragged his thumb across his lover’s hip.

Jared shivered and moaned, ran hands hungrily over Jensen’s skin: his chest, his back, his shoulders. Their arousal mounted, kisses growing more demanding. Jensen drew back a fraction to look, questioning, into Jared’s eyes. He flushed and nodded.

Jensen rolled away to retrieve the small pot he’d stowed next to the bed. Kneeling between his lover’s legs he dusted kisses across strong thighs. Urged Jared’s knees up, stroked and petted. Murmured praise and tenderness.

He oiled his fingers, scooped a bit more of the lubricant to spread at Jared’s entrance. Jensen slipped a thumb between his lover’s cheeks and Jared gasped.

“Do you still trust me?” Jensen asked, his mouth turned up, affectionate.

Jared nodded. Bit his lip.

“Then slow your breathing and relax. I’ll show you ecstasy, I swear it.”

Jared closed his eyes and inhaled, as Jensen went on with his thumb, caressing. Waiting for Jared to acclimate. His body eased and Jensen touched a slippery finger to his center.

He could feel Jared’s war with himself, desire at odds with his instincts, resisting intrusion. Patiently, Jensen drew circles around the opening, spreading slick and dragging moans from Jared’s lips. His lover’s hips began to roll and he pressed. The bare tip of his finger slid inside. Scorching heat. A sobbing breath and Jared froze, eyes shut, mouth wide, belly fluttering.

Jensen rubbed his free hand over Jared’s thigh. Drove deeper. Drew his finger back and began to thrust, shallow and slow. His lover hissed. He took his time. When his strokes grew effortless he pressed in with a second finger.

Jared cried out.

“Breathe, love. Make as if to force me out.”

Jared did, and Jensen sank in to his knuckles. There he waited, Jared’s pants and curses making him tingle. In time, he turned his wrist and curled his fingers inside his lover’s body. Watched as Jared writhed, prick jumping and leaking, and Jensen could bear no more. He withdrew his hand, oiled up his cock, and pulled his lover closer.

Jared’s eyes met his, half-lidded and dark. “Please, Jensen,” he whispered.

Jensen could only nod.

Jared’s body welcomed him in, smooth and tight and trembling. Jensen laid his head on Jared’s chest. A fine sheen of sweat slicked the skin and he reached with his tongue, tasting. Soft sighs fell from Jared’s mouth and Jensen dared not move for fear of finishing, now, when they’d only begun.

 

**

Jared cradled his lover’s head as Jensen gripped his sides. Locked together, they lay silent, frozen for a stretched-taut moment.

Jared’s pain subsided. He could feel his pulse where they were joined. He raised his hips, drew Jensen deeper, tearing a tormented sound from his throat. Jensen arched and withdrew, uneven breathing and fluttering lashes. Jared whined, the slow drag maddening.

“Am I hurting you?” Jensen’s eyes shone with concern. “I’ll stop if it’s – ”

“No!” Jared hadn’t meant to shout. “No, please,” he repeated, softer. He sucked in a breath. “I want this.” Brushed a finger down the center crease of Jensen’s lip. “I want you.”

Jensen drew the finger into his mouth, curled his tongue around and sucked. Jared thrashed and gasped, his lover moving inside him. Jensen chuckled, satisfied grin setting Jared afire.

Jensen clutched at Jared’s shoulders, thrusting slow and deep. Stretching. Filling. Jared pitched and rolled, matched Jensen’s strokes.

Jared gazed at Jensen’s face, teeth compressing his lower lip and eyes squeezed tight. He watched the line of Jensen’s neck, the slopes of his shoulders, the curves of his arms. He wrapped his legs around and hooked his feet behind Jensen’s thighs. Skated fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest. Jared lost himself in the pressure, the friction behind and before as their motion rubbed his cock between their stomachs.

Jensen’s pace, his force increased and Jared grunted as his lover fucked the air out of his lungs. So too Jensen moaned, jaw slack, neck bent. Wet-slick sounds of skin on skin. Jared bowed his back, knees near to his shoulders and Jensen rose, slid his hands up Jared’s thighs and held him there. Drove into him mercilessly.

“Touch yourself,” Jensen panted. “Please. Let me see you, let me feel you.”

Jared did. Encircled his shaft and fondled his balls. Felt heat build low in his belly.

Something shifted. Fire raced up Jared’s spine. He howled and spilled, beyond words, beyond sense. His lover seized, stilled, and he forced his eyes open. Jensen’s head lay back, his muscles strained, and he cried out for Jared, slowing his thrusts.

Jared felt slicker inside. Realized Jensen had filled him up and knowing that, imagining some of his lover remaining within forced another convulsion through him. Jensen hissed and quaked. Jared squeezed again, deliberately, and gleeful at the effect.

Jensen loosed Jared’s legs and collapsed on his chest. Jared petted his hair, kept on rocking his hips, earning gasps and shudders. Spent and sensitive, his prick ached between them. Jared made no move to escape.

It was his turn to hiss as his lover withdrew, a trickling feeling in Jensen’s wake. Jensen’s seed. Jared shivered. Empty, he groaned and heaved his captain up for a desperate kiss. They devoured each other, the rush of orgasm subsiding. Settled into sated pecking.

Jared’s head fell back at last. Jensen rolled off to one side and rooted his face against Jared’s chest. With an indulgent chuckle Jared wrapped his arm around the captain, gripping his shoulder and rubbing his nose against the top of Jensen’s head. He tucked his other hand behind his neck and stared up at the canopy.

Jensen’s hand traced idle patterns on Jared’s skin. The smell of them hung thick in the air. A breeze had lifted as night fell, set the sheers and candles dancing. He wished they’d never have to leave this bed. But Jensen rose, inevitably. Cleaned up at the washstand and brought back a cloth.

Jensen’s fingers curled absently against his chest. Jared deliberated. He’d carried the St. Nicholas medal for days, waiting for a fitting moment. Chances were he wouldn’t have a better one. Jensen would sail soon. He’d said as much.

Jensen spoke. “I have a gift for you.”

Jared gaped, then burst out laughing. _Of course he did_. Jared collected himself, found Jensen looking mildly affronted.

“Do you mind explaining why you find that amusing?”

Jared placed a kiss on Jensen’s nose. “Because I also have a gift for you.” He tumbled out of bed in search of his breeches.

“Greenhorn.” Jensen tilted his head. “You’ve done enough for me. Too much.”

Jared tucked the necklace in his fist and crawled back into bed. Turned his lover’s hand, palm up. There he dropped the pendant, chain slinking behind.

Jensen didn’t speak, and Jared’s chest grew tight. Without lifting his head Jensen looked at Jared, eyes sparkling under the fan of his lashes. Half his mouth turned up and he closed his fingers around the medal. “Unbelievable.” He breathed.

Jared’s back hit the mattress as Jensen sprang at him. Tongues slid and curled against each other and Jared moaned. Jensen wound his fingers in Jared’s hair and pulled his head back. Sucked a column down the line of Jared’s throat.

“You like it, then?” Jared laughed.

“Aye.” Jensen slipped the chain over his head. “Any blackguard steals this one I’ll have his ears.”

Jensen rolled out of bed and Jared stared. Admired Jensen’s broad shoulders and back. The man’s arse swayed with his sailor’s gait. Made Jared’s mouth go dry.

“Close your eyes,” said Jensen.

“Must I?”

“Aye. Or you’ll spoil the surprise.

“Fine.”

Jared listened as the lock of Jensen’s shore chest clicked. He heard rustling fabric. Footsteps. Felt the bed shift when Jensen climbed in. Callused fingers wrapped around his wrist. Something pressed against his palm, a handle, smooth and cool. He reached out with his thumb, which met with bristles.

His eyes popped wide. “Jensen, I can’t. It’s too much.” Hairbrushes cost a fortune. Or so his father had always groaned, endlessly, in a house full of women.

“You can, and it isn’t.”

Jared ran his fingers over the horsehair. Stroked his thumb down the polished bone. “Wait.” Jared’s eyes grew narrow. “This was Captain Lehne’s hairbrush.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “What? You’re not the only pirate in this bed.”

“You’ve had it this whole time?” Jared wondered.

Jensen, for the first time since they’d met, blushed. “Aye. Kept waiting for a fitting moment.”

Jared swelled inside.

Jensen insisted on brushing Jared’s hair immediately. He took his time, worked out the tangles. And when that was done he carried on, deliberate strokes from Jared’s roots to ends.

Jared’s mind wandered, and directly he took to thinking about his future. He hadn’t dared dream of it, not since realizing Lehne would deliver him back to Virginia. Suddenly he had a life before him, a lover beside him, and choices to make.

He could stay here in Port St. Luc, take work in the tavern, or down at the docks. He could hop a merchantman or fishing sloop. Maybe try his hand at running a surgery or apothecary. Build a hut by the beach and eat crabs all day.

He’d hoped Jensen would ask him to join the _Sable Gale_ crew. But he’d heard tell of Jensen’s aversion to bedding the men he commanded. Jared had to admire him for it, even as it twisted his stomach. Worse, Jensen had invited him to work in exchange for passage. _Then you can settle at any port that takes your fancy_. The man persisted in trying to send him away. Infuriating.

At last, Jensen stirred. Nicked a mirrored sconce, and blew out its candle. “Look.” He slid his arms around Jared, nosed behind his ear. “Gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Jared whispered.

“It’s my pleasure.” Jensen shifted. “And speaking of…” A thick hard line pressed low into Jared’s back. He moaned.

Jensen turned him so they faced each other. Guided Jared across his lap. Wrapped Jared up in his arms and slid inside. Jared’s forehead fell to Jensen’s shoulder, arms around his waist. Slow and sinuous, they writhed against each other. Jensen kissed him until his mouth was raw. Slipped a hand between them and brought Jared off. He ended on his back, Jensen driving him into the featherbed, taking his pleasure.

Jensen was breathtaking. Hair sweat-plastered to his face, stomach curling, biceps flexing. Jared raked nails lightly over Jensen’s beard.

Jensen bucked and flexed. “God, Jared,” he panted. Pitched forward so their foreheads pressed together.

Jared fucked with everything he had. He was growing sore, his muscles weak. No matter. He wanted Jensen to remember this forever. “Come on, Redbeard,” he found himself saying. “Take me. Fuck me. Fill me up.”

Jensen’s jaw fell open. Jared didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Oaths and blasphemies poured from his mouth until Jensen roared, short stuttering thrusts and Jared felt heat flooding into him. Jared came off again, almost dry, climax ripping through his very bones.

 

**

Jensen lay in Jared’s arms and listened to his breath. Ran fingers over his new medallion.

He’d have to sail soon. The lads’ coffers were low and they’d fenced their last cargo a week ago. He dared hope Jared would accept his offer of passage, even though he’d balked when Jensen suggested it.

He couldn’t ask Jared to sail with him permanently. The man was no pirate. Besides, all Jensen’s life he’d steered clear of dalliances with shipmates. Let alone men under his command. Other captains did it. Some of his own men had bedded each other. Never once had he seen it end well.

Jensen sighed.

Jared could make a life here. Ruddy Jim and Samantha both had offered him work. Jensen called often, but time away could run for months. How long could he hope a man like this would wait for him? How dared he even wish Jared such a future?

Jared grumbled and shifted. Jensen rolled off him and waited as he settled again, curled on his side. Jensen slid up behind him, draped an arm across his middle and kissed his shoulders. Tried to match his lover’s breathing, let the rhythm lull him.

Morning found him sweltering, Jared’s limbs wound about him like a giant squid’s. He needed a piss, and a wash, and some breakfast wouldn’t go amiss. Carefully he extracted himself from the bed, tied back the sheers.

Jared stirred as Jensen finished washing. His mouth went dry when Jared stretched. Back into bed he crawled, intent on kissing Jared awake. But big hands seized him, dragged him down and rolled him to his back.

“I have a notion,” Jared said.

“And it’s not all you have,” Jensen replied, rocking against the erection Jared pressed into his thigh.

Jared flashed his dimples. “I was thinking,” a blush lit his cheeks, “about the girl we saw in the alley.”

“A girl?” Jensen played at affronted. “I should think I’d have broken you of those for good and all.”

Jared’s laugh showed all his teeth. “Aye. For as long as I have you I need no other, girl or boy.”

Jensen’s chest clenched.

“I was thinking,” Jared went on. “I’d like to try what she was doing.” He shrugged one shoulder, bashful.

“Ye gods, Jared, you _will_ be the death of me.”

“Do you agree then?” Eager eyes met his.

Jensen nodded, breathless. Jared went to his knees and bowed his head, took Jensen’s half-hard length between his lips. He learned quickly. Jensen guided, encouraged him to swirl his tongue and use his hands. Jared looked up at him through his lashes, lips stretched and shining and eyes bright, bluish today. Jensen dug his fingers into the bedding.

“Jared,” he warned as his climax approached. And either Jared didn’t understand, or he didn’t care, because he never let up with his ministrations. Rather, he skimmed the tip of his tongue inside Jensen’s foreskin and Jensen swore. Spilled into Jared’s mouth. He felt the boy working his jaw, his throat as he swallowed. Jensen shivered and moaned.

“You really are too good to be real,” Jensen panted, coming back to himself. “What on Earth gave you this impulse?”

Jared blushed to crimson. “Honestly? I hoped you’d want to do it to me.” His teeth ran out to bite his lip. “Only seemed right to offer first.”

Jensen burst out laughing. Gripped his lover by his shoulders and dragged him into a crushing kiss. Tasted traces of his passion. “Ask me, Jared,” he breathed. “Ask me anything.”

“Take me?” Jared whispered back, “in your mouth?”

Jensen obliged. Sucked Jared down to the root, down his throat. When it was done Jared babbled in amazement.

“Jensen my God! You… You swallowed,” he blinked, “all of me.” He shook his head deliberately. “You must teach me to do that.” His face, his voice, were so sincere that Jensen ached.

“I’ll be glad to,” Jensen said tenderly, then, “Why wouldn’t I? As I’m the one most like to benefit.”

A lecherous chuckle, and Jared hit him with a pillow. In retaliation, Jensen tickled Jared’s ribs. They tumbled and roughhoused like children, ending on the floor with most of the bedding and one of the sheers. Samantha would have a conniption.

As they labored to repair the damage, Jensen came to a decision. He drew Jared down to the bed. Took his hands. “You know I must sail soon. A day, perhaps two.”

Jared deflated. “I know.”

“Do you wish to stay here, then?”

Jared bristled.

“I would have the truth from you, Jared.”

“I wish to sail with you.”

A smile broke wide on Jensen’s face. They’d have a few more weeks together, at least. “As a passenger.”

Jared studied him. “As a pirate.”

Jensen gaped. “You’d join my crew?”

Jared’s forehead folded into that arch Jensen admired so. “Not if it means I’d have to give this up.” His lips brushed, feather soft, over Jensen’s. “I know it goes against your ways, and the crew might find me objectionable, but – ”

 _His crew?_ “My lads adore you, Greenhorn.”

Jared bit his lip. “And you?”

“Jared…” Jensen drew a heavy breath. “I’ll always have you. I…” He licked his lips. Met Jared’s gaze.

His lover smiled, eyes glistening, reading Jensen’s mind. “Me too.”

Jensen’s eyes slid closed and he squeezed Jared’s hands. “Then you’ll sail with me?”

Jared squeezed back. “To the ends of the Earth.”


	7. Epilogue

_In the year of Our Lord 1712_

“Full about, ye lazy mongrels!” Jeffrey cried. Guns roared and smoked. “We’ll give that stubborn Spaniard a bellyful!”

 _Man o’ Fire_ lurched as her coxswain hauled hard on the wheel. Jeffrey opened his spyglass. Spotted _Sable Gale_ coming to bear on their target, Jolly Roger aloft as she spewed raking fire from her bow.

A volley ripped through the galleon’s foresail. “That’ll slow her,” Jeffrey mumbled. “Oy, Blacker! Ready the blood flag. When I give the signal, hoist her nice and slow.” He hoped the daft captain would come to his senses. Surrender before his entire crew lay bleeding.

“Brace for impact!” came a call from afore.

Grape shot rained down on _Man o’ Fire_. Jeffrey swore as men screamed and rigging tore loose. He signaled Blacker. For that, he decided, the Spanish bastard would sleep in Davy Jones’ embrace before nightfall.

A volley from the galleon’s starboard missed _Sable Gale_ entirely. Jensen’s crew returned fire. Chain shot whipped through the enemy’s shrouds. The galleon bombarded Jeffrey’s exposed broadside.

His lads hit the deck as the railing splintered. _Man o’ Fire_ completed her turn, made hard for the windward gage. He lacked the sails to overbear his prize, but he could slow her considerably.

 _Sable Gale_ had come about already. Saints above that ship was fast. His son looked poised for another broadside run. Meantime Jeffrey ordered raking fire from his chasers. The galleon’s stern opened up in a shower of glass and wood. Her mizzen swayed ominously.

“Chains!” he shouted. “Target her backstays!”

Stern chasers lost, the galleon struggled to come about and fire a broadside on Jeffrey’s position. _Sable Gale_ sailed circles around the two larger ships, peppered the galleon with shot. Jeffrey’s lads launched round after round from _Man o’ Fire_ ’s bow.

Jeffrey sent a prayer to the Virgin for the Spanish sailors. Those lads weren’t to blame that their captain had more balls than brains.

By and by _Sable Gale_ sent a volley into the galleon’s port shrouds. Another strong wind and her mizzen would snap. Surely this captain –

Down came the enemy’s colors and up came the white. The galleon dropped her sails and fired no more as the two pirate ships approached.

Grapnels arced above the waters of Biscayne Bay. _Man o’ Fire_ drew abeam of her prize.

Together with lads from _Sable Gale_ , Jeffrey’s crew scoured every inch of the captured galleon. Among the usual supplies and stores, they found _Bailarina de Onda_ fat with riches: gold and silver bound for King Philip’s treasury, silks and spices from the Orient. Lads hauled over crate after crate, bent on stuffing both ships’ holds to bursting.

A broad grin split his face as his sons approached.

“Admiral,” greeted Jensen, face alight with mischief.

He shook his head. _Fool boy._ “Captain.”

“Sir,” said Jared, bowing slightly. The tips of his ears went red, but at least he could hold Jeffrey’s eyes these days. He looked to Jensen. “I should see to the wounded.”

Jensen winked at his surgeon’s apprentice. Jared made haste toward the rail, and _Man o’ Fire_.

“Oy, Main Mast.” Jeffrey said, and Jared turned back. “Have ye been t’ the surgery yet?”

“Aye, sir.” Disgust painted his features. “Nothing but rum and leeches. A bloody saw.” Jared grimaced. “I hear tell the ship’s carpenter served as surgeon.”

“Aye,” Jeffrey nodded, “’Tis a common arrangement.” He smiled at the boy, warm and genuine. “Off with ye then. Mustn’t keep the doc awaitin’.”

They watched Jared go. “How fares inspection?” asked Jensen.

“Better than we imagined.” He eyed his son pointedly. “A man could retire off a haul such as this.”

Jensen cocked his head. “Is there something you’re hinting at?”

Jeffrey shrugged. “Now, son, if I aimed t’ be hintin’ I’d point out how that business with Lehne’s made ye a public enemy amongst the bloody English. Mayhap mention ye’ve a reason to live t’ a ripe old age now.”

“Father.” Jensen chuckled ruefully. His face grew serious. “Will we give quarter?”

Jeffrey scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I’m considerin’ it, for the common lads. Though I’ve a mind to keelhaul their witless captain.”

Jensen’s face showed he understood.

“Not sure what a mercy it’d be, t’ leave ’em aboard. Their ship’s down a mast and her stern’s in kindlin’.”

“She could still make Havana,” Jensen countered, “catch up with the treasure fleet.”

“Aye, but with no supplies? Might be a greater mercy t’ sink her.”

Jensen folded his arms, looked out over the Spaniards under guard on the weather deck. “I vote we spare the crew. Let the sea decide their fate.”

“And the captain?”

“I’ll shoot him myself, if you wish it.”

A grim smile.

In the end Jared prevailed upon them to leave water, at least, aboard the galleon. “They can fish,” he’d said, then, curling his lip, “or eat rats.”

The captain won the mercy of Jensen’s flintlock, but only after Jeffrey’s most bone-chilling speech on the fate of those who failed to surrender.

 _Man o’ Fire_ and _Sable Gale_ set out for Port St. Luc, bent on spending their bounty amongst friends. They’d sail together, as close as they could. Damaged, and riding low with their bulging holds, the ships would make tempting targets separately.

The setting sun lit the sea like jewels cast over the water. Sea birds circled above. Dolphins swept along in the distance. Jeffrey’s lads labored to patch up the hole in the railing, repair shredded rigging.

Jeffrey sighed. He’d meant what he’d said. He aimed to retire. Pass _Man o’ Fire_ to her crew and take up fishing. He dearly hoped his sons would follow, sooner than later. Perhaps they’d decide to be fathers, take in one of Port St. Luc’s many orphans. He smiled at the thought; _I may yet have me grandchildren_.

He cast his eyes on _Sable Gale_ as she sliced through the waves. There he spied his sons, side by side on her quarterdeck watching the sunset. He lacked the grace to feel ashamed as he drew his spyglass. Through its lens, bursts of color surrounded them. Jeffrey’s breath caught. They could be angels, ringed about in haloes of light. Jensen wrapped his hand around Jared’s. Their fingers entwined.

Jeffrey stowed his spyglass. Turned his eyes forward, ahead to the sparkling sea.


End file.
